


The Wolf At Your Door

by esmerod



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arthur's a moody bastard, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Drunkenness, Dubcon Kissing, Ghosts, M/M, Magic Revealed, Mild D/s, Mild Gore, Mild Non-Consensual Touching, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Episode: s05e13 The Diamond of the Day, Rating May Change, Restraints, Season/Series 06, Sidhe, Warnings May Change, arthur lives, court life, mild (implied) drugging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:15:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 76,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esmerod/pseuds/esmerod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin succeeds at getting Arthur to Avalon and saving his king. But the price the Sidhe claim for Arthur's life might be higher than what Merlin bargained for. So without a proper grasp of what he got himself into this time, he and Arthur return to Camelot. And as if this wasn't enough, there's also the little fact that Arthur's still not entirely over the whole magic reveal thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_„Emrys, don’t forget there is a price for everything.”_

Merlin stared out at the swirling lights over the lake’s rippled surface. He was cowering on the ground, still desperately clutching Arthur’s lifeless form to his chest.  
“I know. I’m prepared to give everything! You can have my life in exchange for his!” he yelled.

The lake’s waters started rising, the Sidhe moving faster. A storm was coming.  
 _“It’s not your life we seek, warlock.”_

Merlin could feel the despair growing. The body in his arms was already cooling, life’s breath having fled from it several minutes ago. He wiped away the tears in the corner of his eyes and tried to focus on the eerily glowing lights.  
“Then please… tell me what you want!” He sounded chocked now. Anguish was closing off his throat, making his voice raw and barely able to contain the sobs that threatened escape.  
“I’d do anything…” 

_“It’s not your life we seek, warlock. It’s your soul…”_

The wind picked up and carried the disembodied words over the shores of lake Avalon, over the hills and forests surrounding it, until they finally died away in the distance but still resonated within every fibre of Merlin’s being.  
“My soul? “ he stammered, “but…”

_“You said anything. Is the magnitude of your loyalty so limited to mortal scales that an immortal price puts you off?”_

Merlin shook his head. The Sidhe were taunting him, their spiteful laughter resounding in the wind that violently blew through the leaves and tore at his clothes. He knew they were trying to lure him in and that this deal was something that he would most likely come to regret, but when he had said _anything_ he had meant it. He didn’t really know what _his soul_ implied but that didn’t matter because in the end Merlin would always pay the price. Arthur’s life was worth it and getting him back was worth _everything_.

So he nodded and stared ahead into the madly dancing circus of lights hovering over the lake’s turbulent surface. “You shall have my soul in exchange for King Arthur’s life.”  
The Sidhe started hissing in triumph and laughter but Merlin held out his hand, his eyes glowing gold, “but only…” he took a deep breath, “ but only if you promise to never threaten the king’s or any of his associates’ lives again and welcome him back to Avalon once natural causes take him.”

The swirling light that must have been the Sidhe elder hovered in front of him before the grave resonance of his voice struck Merlin and made every living thing in their direct environment quiver.

_“So it shall be then.”_

The lake’s waters started swelling, lapping around Merlin’s feet, slowly engulfing him and Arthur.  
Maybe this was a mistake after all, Merlin thought trembling while the storm and the Sidhe’s excited voices raged over him. A cold, dark fear had taken hold of him. The deal he was making now was not about an elaborate healing spell to suck the dark poison of Mordred’s cursed blade out of Arthur’s body but cheating death. Nobody could bring back the dead though, that was what Lancelot’s return had taught him.  
By the time the rising waters reached Merlin’s chest, his heart was beating so rapidly he could barely contain himself. He clutched Arthur’s stiff body closer to his own while the merciless rain pounded down on them. What did it mean to surrender his soul to the Sidhe? He didn’t mind dying, he didn’t mind joining the ranks of Avalon in Arthur’s stead but he had to make sure the resurrected king was more than a mere shade. He opened his mouth to ask but the Sidhe’s voices – surprisingly clear over the storm – prevented him.

_“Fear not, Emrys. We will uphold our end of the bargain. It is yourself you should be worried for.”_

That was the last thing he heard before the water had risen so high Merlin could no longer breathe. He was pulled under and Arthur slipped from his grip, getting lost in the murky darkness of the lake. Merlin wanted to scream, but only muted bubbles escaped his mouth while he tried to reach for his king. But Arthur was gone and Merlin tried to find him, his limbs flailing in panic, while the pressure in his lungs got harder and harder to bear. Without seeing he made wild grasps at nothing and was lost. 

It became more and more silent underneath the surface and Merlin noticed that it was getting darker too. Though not the waters were so devoid of light, it was the one in his eyes that was slowly fading, rendering him blind. So he stopped moving, stopped searching and let himself glide soundlessly into the bottomless depths of lake Avalon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally started writing this story for Paper Legends 2013 but couldn't finish it in time. The problem wasn't the 30k word count, but that with 30k written I was nowhere near done with all the things I wanted to tell. 
> 
> Many thanks to my beta, SillyBlue/diminuel!


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur are roadtrippers

Arthur woke with a start. He was lying on his back and the first thing he noticed was that he was feeling surprisingly well; and that all of his clothes were soaked through.  
  
The sky above was clear, only a few stray clouds were fleeing quickly. It almost looked as if they were the last sad remains of a storm. Arthur dragged a hand over his wet face and rubbed a few drops of water from his eyes. What had happened? He had been sure that… He didn’t want to finish the thought and tried to get up instead. His surroundings only confirmed his suspicions. Everything was wet and looked a bit dishevelled, except for the lake in front of him. Its surface was completely still. Arthur glanced into the distance to the island in the lake’s midst.  
 _Avalon_ , a little voice supplied. Arthur shook his head. His memory was a little foggy but he was sure they hadn’t been at a lake the last thing he remembered. They had tried to make it here but he had… Arthur swallowed hard. He was sure he had died before they reached the shores.

He scrambled to his feet. For a moment he wondered at the absence of pain and instinctively reached for the spot near his heart that used to be the epicentre of his agony, only to feel nothing. He was fine. There was no pain, he actually felt better than he had in a long time. Startled he continued scanning his surroundings and tried to make sense of what he saw.

Not far from him a body was lying on the ground, face-down, half submerged in the water. Arthur immediately recognized the black mop of hair that was Merlin and wanted to rush over. The body, though, used exactly that same moment to pathetically groan and roll on its back. Arthur couldn’t suppress an eye roll and took a deep breath. So the idiot was alive then. Good.  
  
He walked over at a leisurely pace and lightly kicked Merlin’s thigh once he reached him.  
“What happened?”  
Merlin, on his part, seemed to need a moment to grasp what was going on before his eyes snapped open and focused on Arthur. “You’re alive.”  
An incredulous smile spread across his face. “You’re alive!” And as if he needed proof he grabbed for Arthur’s leg and started pawing it, before he clumsily got up and crushed Arthur in a hug.  After a moment of hesitation Arthur closed his arms around his incoherently mumbling manservant too.  
“It’s fine, Merlin. I’m alright. Everything’s going to be alright,” he murmured over Merlin’s chocked sounds of sobbing.

While Merlin clung to him, Arthur let his hands wander and soothingly stroked his shoulders. Merlin was shaking and Arthur decided that for this one time it was alright to just hold on to each other. They had made it; they deserved a moment of peace.  
“Nah nah Merlin, you’re being a giant girl again,” he said teasingly yet the slight hoarseness of his own voice didn’t go unnoticed.  
Merlin sniffed and laughed at the same time. “I know.” He buried his face in the crook of Arthur’s neck and Arthur gently stroked the back of his head.

“I wasn’t sure if it was really going to work,” Merlin said with a raspy voice while his face was still pressed to Arthur.  
  
Arthur said nothing and simply continued to hold him for a moment, before he found the amount of whiny emotional displays he could bear was reached and started to peel Merlin off of him.  
He studied his manservant’s wet face. There was still this one question praying on his mind.  
“Did I die?” he asked.  Merlin’s reaction to awkwardly lower his gaze was the only answer he needed. “Arthur, I had to…” he answered evasively before he seemed able to muster the courage to look his king in the eye again. Arthur frowned, still holding on to Merlin’s shoulders.  
“And what… what did you do?”  
“I… I actually did nothing. He Sidhe brought you back.”  
  
Arthur abruptly let go him. “The Sidhe? Merlin what are you consorting with? I thought…”

_I thought you were good_

He didn’t need to finish the sentence, they both heard the unspoken words. Merlin stared at him, eyes pleading. “Arthur, I did it for you. So you could fulfil your destiny. It wasn’t your time to die.”  
“Oh, really? Mordred seemed to think otherwise.” He was a bit surprised at the biting tone in his voice and how much Merlin flinched under it. “Arthur, please…”

He sighed, evading the sorcerer’s beseeching gaze. “And what…,“ he gestured towards the lake.  
“I’m pretty sure the Sidhe didn’t grant your request out of the goodness of their hearts.”  
Merlin shook his head, slightly blushing now though. “No, magic always comes at a price. The Sidhe…” he hesitated but Arthur indicated with a nod that he should go on.  
“I’m not exactly sure what I gave them, “ he mumbled. And after another strained pause in which he seriously started to poke holes in the ground with his foot, he finally admitted, “I probably traded my life for yours.”

“You WHAT?!” Arthur stared at him incredulously. “Have you lost the last bit of your already very limited mental capacities?”  
Merlin raised his hand in placating gesture but Arthur raged on, “I never asked you to do this! I don’t need you to sacrifice yourself for…”  
  
“Arthur, it’s my destiny!”  
It was only one sentence, spoken in a relatively calm fashion compared to Arthur’s outburst, but it took the wind out of the king’s sails. He stared at Merlin as if he couldn’t fully grasp what he had just said.

“It’s my destiny,” Merlin repeated, his voice firm now and standing a bit straighter while he held Arthur’s gaze. “It’s what I’m here for, my purpose. Protecting you, so you can achieve all your goals is more important to me than anything else. Even more important than my own life.” His eyes were so incredibly blue and his expression so open, it made Arthur swallow. It wasn’t the first time Merlin said something like this but that didn’t mean it made him any less uncomfortable. He had to turn away. “Merlin…”  
Sometimes he was convinced Merlin was too loyal, too good, and of course lacking any considerable sense of self-preservation. It reminded Arthur of the time Merlin had drunk poison for him but now that he knew more, he realized there must have been numerous other occasions, in which Merlin hat taken the fall for him too. It practically made Arthur dizzy with guilt and sorrow and a feeling that this was so typically Merlin, that he was almost grateful for it again. At least some things he thought he knew about his manservant turned out to be irrevocably true. So he just said: “Does that mean you’re not only the worst servant in history but also the worst sorcerer?”  
  
Merlin’s expression was immediately replaced by an indignant pout. “Hey! You’re alive after all.”  
“Yes, and you in a pact with some equivocal faeries. Really Merlin, shouldn’t you know better?” Arthur started walking away from the lake’s shore, casually picking up his sword that still lay on the ground where he had woken up while Merlin trailed him. “Haven’t you learned anything from court dealings? Always check a contract before you sign it.” Arthur abruptly stopped and Merlin almost bumped into him. “Why are you even alive if you say you traded your life for mine?”  
Merlin shrugged sheepishly and made a deflective gesture. “That’s the point I’m not entirely sure about. They were a bit vague on the details,” and before Arthur could inquire some more he hastened to add, “Aren’t you glad I’m alive?”  
  
He threw Arthur a lopsided grin before he sidestepped the king and tried to continue their journey away from the lake. Arthur, though, grabbed his wrist and stopped him dead in his tracks. He looked completely serious now, all the chiding playfulness from before gone. ”Of course, I’m glad you’re alive. Why do you think it bothers me that you so unthinkingly put yourself in danger again? I can’t imagine a world, in which you…” The rest of the sentence got swallowed up in a compensating gesture of Arthur’s hand, followed by an embarrassed cough.  
  
A traitorously red colour had crept up the tips of Merlin’s ears while at the same time a pleased smile graced his lips. “It’s the same for me,” he mumbled, nervously massaging his neck. A bit louder he added: “You don’t have to worry about the deal with the Sidhe. I’m fine. We both are. And that’s all that matters for now. Once we’re back in Camelot I’ll try to figure something out.”  
Arthur regarded him suspiciously. “And you think that’ll work?”  
“I don’t know. But until now it always did.” Merlin shrugged and then, as if it was necessary to break the tension he punched Arthur lightly on the shoulder. “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

Arthur didn’t look convinced. Quite on the contrary actually; his face displayed the mocking disbelief that was normally reserved for occasions such as Merlin telling him that he had defeated a whole bunch of bandits while the king himself had taken a little recreational nap. “You are utterly clueless, aren’t you? I can’t believe I actually have to put up with you.”

Merlin smiled his apologetic smile. “Not utterly clueless, sire. I know for example that we’ve lost the horses and that we have to walk back to Camelot.” Arthur’s eyes widened comically. “We have what?”

“Oh yes, sire. You might remember that Morgana chased them off,” he chattered. “I do admit though that I am utterly clueless about how much time has passed since then. It could be hours, it could be days, but the chances of finding them are…”  
  
Arthur held up his hand. “Merlin, shut up.”

“Yes, Arthur.”

* * *

 

“So you can’t see that future and you can’t fly. What can you actually do then? Until now your powers weren’t really that impressive.”

Their involuntary walk through the woods had proven to be not half as much fun as Merlin remembered them from their usual hunting trips. Mostly because Arthur insisted on asking him nasty questions about the resurrection, the Sidhe pact and his magic in general. He also turned out to be much more perceptive to little inconsistencies in Merlin's tales now that he knew the truth. It made Merlin wonder if Arthur really had been that – stupidly – blind or if part of him had deliberately ignored the weird occurrences that tended to go along with their adventures. He was inclined to opt for the latter but that still didn’t make him feel much better about this interrogation. A tortured sigh escaped him.

“I don’t know. Until now I didn’t really get the chance to test the limits of my powers. I normally only use what I need.”  Merlin’s attention was focused on the ground, watching his step, while he walked behind Arthur through the undergrowth. It was slowly getting darker, the night approaching, and Camelot still nowhere in sight.

“How boring is that?” Arthur shoved a low-hanging branch out of their way while Merlin bristled a little behind him. “Well, my lord, you might be forgetting that Camelot still has the death penalty for any kind of magic performed. And I like my head in exactly the place it is right now.”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. You know I wouldn’t have executed you.” Arthur stopped. “Maybe banished you a little, but certainly not killed.” He had a mocking grin on his face as he turned to his servant but underneath it lurked a badly hidden hurt that clouded his eyes. Merlin had to keep himself from cringing. He averted his gaze. “I know… I didn’t mean…”  
His fingers grazed the fabric of Arthur’s sleeve apologetically. “I was just trying to be careful,” and after a pause he added, “Gaius was always so worried…” Arthur nodded then continued walking. His attention focused on the path in front of them once more.

“It is an actual miracle you were never caught, because subtlety was never your forte, Merlin,” he heard Arthur say somewhere in front of him, which only made Merlin raise a sceptical eyebrow.  
“Says the one who never guessed a thing.”  
In his mind Arthur’s lips curled upwards at the remark but as he only saw the back of his king’s head he could only guess at the expression. However, his tone sounded teasing enough when he answered: “Do you question the judgement of your king?”

“I would never dare, Your Majesty.”

They continued their journey in silence. Merlin’s heart torn between the relief that Arthur finally knew and that they could – somehow, awkwardly – talk about it and guilt about all the hurt he had inflicted and the trust he had undermined. There were still so many things he had to tell and to explain and he was afraid that Arthur would lose patience with him once he grasped the full extent to which Merlin had been keeping secrets from him. But he also felt that it would be too much to spill all of that now. Seeing the fear on Arthur’s features once when he had revealed his magic had been enough for a lifetime. He really didn’t want to scare him off, not now and not ever.

They approached the border of the woods, the outline of a small village already visible in the distance. “We’ll stay there for the night. Camelot’s still too far off and at your snail’s pace we’re never going to make it before nightfall. “[1] Merlin only nodded. It was Arthur’s commanding voice, so objecting would have made little sense anyway. Besides, he really felt a bit weary.  
  
The village wasn’t anything special. Maybe a bit bigger than Ealdor, as it obviously possessed something like a centre with a square and a fountain. The inn, ironically called _The Crown_ , was located right across the small enclosed space.  
Merlin could feel the villagers’ eyes following them as they crossed at a nonthreatening pace.  An armed man in chainmail was a sight they didn’t get every day, and after all the warfare recently people were suspicious who could be trusted and who not. Though he doubted that what was left of Morgana’s marauding Saxon soldiers would roam that far into Camelot lands, he still understood the villagers’ wariness. He grabbed for Arthur’s upper arm and threw a significant look at the sword in his hand. Arthur nodded, but with his cloak and the sheath gone there was little he could do about its threatening visibility. He clutched it a bit closer to his body and tried to give his stance a more relaxed air before he pulled the Crown’s door open.  
  
The inn’s inside was just as unassuming as the outside. Wooden tables with some benches, filled with a few locals, who examined the newcomers with the same guarded curiosity the other villagers had.  
Arthur immediately went to the counter and inquired for rooms, while a heavy silence settled amongst the patrons. Merlin stood there waiting, and for a second the thought crossed his mind that it should actually be him, the servant, organizing their sleeping accommodation and not the king.  
The innkeeper’s voice carried over to him, explaining that the Crown was a very small establishment and that they only had one guest room. They would have to share. Merlin shifted from one foot to the other, still feeling the other patrons’ stares boring into his back. He couldn’t tell what Arthur did then because suddenly the atmosphere changed and the innkeeper waved over one of the serving wenches, sounding much more eager now. The conversations resumed and Merlin wondered what little gesture had slipped his notice that seemed to have put everybody at ease so quickly.  
  
He joined Arthur, who was led to one of the tables by the girl. “It’s rare that knights come here. Thennos isn’t exactly a place that attracts travellers, but we all heard of your great victory!” she said while she wiped down the table. Before she turned away again though, she gifted Arthur with an admiring smile, which made Merlin chuckle. “Already charming the ladies, huh?”  
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Merlin. I’m a married man.” Merlin lifted his hands in a placating manner, still sniggering though. In a bit more serious fashion he then leaned across the table, whispering: “What did you do to make them…” his mute gesture referring to all the lively talk around them. Arthur smiled his slightly arrogant isn’t-it-obvious-smile in return. “I paid.”  
Merlin frowned. “I didn’t know you had money with you.”

“I don’t.”

Before Merlin could retort anything the girl returned, carrying two bowls of something that probably was supposed to be stew. She smiled at Arthur again and purred a not very subtle “I’m Brianna, by the way”. Arthur tried his best to put up his kingly, slightly distanced air when he answered: “Thank you very much, Brianna. And tell your uncle that we are very grateful.”

Merlin laughed into his food as the girl pranced away. “So you told them wewere valiant knights returning from battle and in need of shelter, or what?”  
“We _are_ valiant knights returning from battle and in need of shelter. Well, at least I am. You are my servant.” Merlin huffed, still amused though. He had already started eating and came to the conclusion that the stew tasted much better than it looked. Arthur still eyed it a bit suspiciously, hunger winning over quickly though. Apparently, he seemed to share Merlin’s opinion on the stew’s taste because after the first cautious spoon he started digging in quite vigorously.  
  
“What do you think it is?” he mumbled chewing and swallowing, royal manners abandoned for once.  
Merlin grinned. “Rat?”  
Arthur smacked him over the head.

They finished their meal quickly. Brianna threw a hopeful look in their direction when they got up but was intercepted by the innkeeper, who led them to their room himself.  
It was sparse. Not more than a loft with one bed and a little window. Merlin threw a quick glance out of it but couldn’t really see much. There was the fountain in the square again and some people having gathered there, certainly discussing the strangers that had arrived. Merlin didn’t give it all that much thought as he suddenly felt pretty exhausted and the last rays of sunlight were about to disappear behind the horizon too. He eyed the bed longingly.

Arthur exchanged some last words with the innkeeper, reassuring him in unusual humility that it certainly was enough and he shouldn’t worry. Merlin was tempted to roll his eyes.

“I swear if you make me sleep on the floor I’ll seriously reconsider the whole worth of this resurrection thing,” he muttered as soon as the older man had left.  Arthur sat down on the bed, patting the space next to him with a grin. “I feel generous today, but Merlin, ifyou snore, I promise to kick your bony backside to the curb.” Merlin huffed but settled next to the other man, part of him actually mildly surprised that Arthur had given in so easily. He had somehow expected more wary reservation on Arthur’s part after, well, everything, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. So he let his fingers drift to the fastenings of Arthur’s armour and started unclasping them with practiced ease. “Let me get you out of that.”  
Arthur relaxed under Merlin’s ministrations, the routine known and welcome.  
For lack of space Merlin simply placed the single pieces on the floor, not paying much attention to any protocol or order. “I’ll do it properly once we’re back in Camelot,” he said dismissively when he noticed Arthur’s disapproving glare.  
  
Arthur, however, seemed to tense a little under that prospect. Merlin’s movements slowed in a barely noticeable way.  
“What are you going to do once we’re back in Camelot?” Arthur asked and obviously tried very hard to sound casual.  
“What do you mean? What I always do, of course.” Merlin answered and continued his task, pretending not to know what Arthur was aiming at. Two could play this game.  
“But Merlin, “Arthur turned to him, “you could do everything. I saw you…”  
His silent gesture filled in for the unspoken words. Merlin took a deep breath, still avoiding to look at his king directly.  
  
“You called lightning from the sky.” Arthur said it like it was the ultimate secret. There might even have resonated a bit of awe in his tone. Merlin swallowed.  
“Yes,” he simply said. “But nothing needs to change; we can go on just as we were.”  
He sounded hopeful when he finally succeeded to look Arthur in the eye again, but he only found mild resignation there. Arthur shook his head.  
“We can’t, Merlin. I can’t pretend not to know.”  
  
Merlin nodded, his throat felt raw and he averted is gaze again.  
“Then what…?”

“I don’t know” and after a heavy pause Arthur added, “you never got any credit. You saved us all and nobody knows. Isn’t it frustrating?”  
Merlin huffed a self-ironic laugh, “Of course it’s frustrating! You don’t know how many times I wanted to turn you into a toad because you were such an ignorant fool. But I don’t do it for the credit. In the end I do it because it’s the right thing to do, so don’t worry about it.” His tone sounded surprisingly final when he quickly squeezed Arthur’s hand in a friendly manner.  
 Arthur’s shoulders slumped a little, the tension draining from him. “I don’t think Camelot can handle another sorcerer right now,” he admitted meekly. Merlin only nodded again, his gaze drifting to the far end of the room. “Actually, I agree with you there. It’s too soon. So don’t think I’ll resent you if you don’t tell them right away.”  
  
Now it was Arthur’s turn to sigh deeply. He leant back on the bed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Merlin, why do you always have to be so… you?”  
Merlin gifted him with one of his typical grins. ”I’m good at it,” he retorted, turning towards Arthur once more. “Come on now, let us get you out of the mail,” his hands already tearing at the hems.

“You’re changing topic, and as I already pointed out subtlety really isn’t exactly your forte.” Arthur still began shrugging out of the heavy shirt, helping Merlin to lift it over his head.

“Oh, don’t underestimate my skills. How’s your wound?”  
“Fine, I guess.” He looked down on himself when Merlin unceremoniously unbuttoned his gambeson, examining the cut. It was nothing more than a slightly paler line now, looking more like an old scar. When Merlin started prodding it Arthur couldn’t help a wince though and eventually slapped his servants’ hand away.  
“I’m fine,” he repeated grumbling, a little blush spreading over his cheeks. Merlin rewarded him with a raised eyebrow, which would have made Gaius proud, but still was satisfied enough with his examination to let Arthur be. “Are you going to sleep?”

Arthur nodded, quickly assessing the space of the bed. “You sleep on the wall side.”

“I do? But what if you fall off?”

“I won’t if you get those lanky limbs of yours under control.” With that Merlin was shoved against the wall. It made him shudder a little but he adjusted quickly as he felt Arthur settle in next to him. So sandwiched between the cold wall on the one side and the warmth of Arthur’s body on the other, Merlin couldn’t really decide whether he felt comfortable or not. He tended towards _or not_ but considering what this day had already brought he didn’t mind that much.

The room was pretty dark now, the light from the outside having almost faded. Through the little window above their bed he could see the sky but it was greyish dark, no stars out yet to lighten it up.  
Merlin sighed and wondered if it meant anything. Next to him Arthur stirred and turned to lie on his side so that his back was turned towards Merlin.  
Merlin listened into the darkness, waiting for more to come but the only thing he could hear was Arthur’s slightly irregular breathing. So he stared at the ceiling, exhausted and restless at the same time, his hands clenched while his thoughts whirled.

“Arthur?” he asked into the silence.

A grunt was the answer. Merlin hesitated. He knew it was too early but he wouldn’t be able to give it a rest until they had at least brushed the topic. Cautiously he turned a little bit more towards Arthur.  
  
“Are you still angry?”

For a while nothing happened, the words hanging heavily between them. Merlin could hear the pounding of his own heart in his ears, the increased tension making him feel slightly dizzy.  
Then Arthur shifted and turned to lie on his back again. “Yes.”

Merlin swallowed. “I understand…” he murmured and couldn’t help the subdued feeling that made his nervous heart clench some more.  
“Do you really?” Arthur’s voice sounded strained, his gaze focused on the ceiling.  
“I trusted you, Merlin. And now I’m not even sure I know who you are anymore.”

“But of course you do! I’m the same person I always was. I just…” his voice trailed off, searching for Arthur’s gaze that was still directed upward, ignoring him. So he grabbed the other man’s wrist instead and squeezed. “I’m Merlin,” he said, putting effort into making his voice as steady as possible. “I’m every bit the idiot you always thought I was. I’m just also a bit more…”

His words echoed in the darkness. Arthur still refused to show a reaction but Merlin could feel his rapid heartbeat under the skin of his wrist. The blood was rushing through his veins just as fast as Merlin’s own. He was nervous, and somehow that made Merlin reconsider. He loosened his grip and immediately Arthur’s hand began moving. It twisted and wriggled free, brushing Merlin’s fingers lightly in the process before being placed on Arthur’s flat stomach. “I don’t know,” Arthur finally said. “I think I have to get to know you again first.”

Merlin swallowed but couldn’t suppress an anxious smile. “So you’re giving me a chance?” he asked hopefully.

Arthur shrugged. “I might… if you don’t annoy me tonight.”  
The rest of the tension fell away and let Merlin settled down on the bed once more.  
“You prat! I’m actually quite an agreeable person, just so you know. I could try to prove it to you.”

“And how would you do that?”  
Arthur was obviously trying to sound unimpressed, so Merlin answered with a sheepish shrug. “Would you like to see some more magic?”  
After a moment of hesitation he felt Arthur’s nod.  
  
 Merlin raised a hand and didn’t need to think long. He conjured the sphere of blue light. It illuminated the small room and revealed the wonder in Arthur’s face.

“I know that one,” he murmured almost reverently. Merlin nodded.  
“I thought you might.”

The sphere floated a few centimetres above his hand, emitting its calm glow. It sucked in the attention of Merlin’s gaze just as much as Arthur’s. That’s why it surprised him all the more when Arthur suddenly lifted a hand to touch it. With an outstretched finger he nudged it softly, the sphere wavering a little under the king’s touch but not budging otherwise.  
“It’s warm,” Arthur stated amazedly. Merlin nodded again, when a little absentmindedly. He could feel Arthur’s attention and amazement towards the sphere as if it was directed at him. It made him feel a bit warm on the inside.

“If you want to you can hold it,” he offered shyly.

Arthur seemed to consider it but then shook his head. “No… maybe another time.”

The rejection hurt, of course, but Merlin could also understand that it might have been asked a bit too much for their first try. So he let the sphere float up to the ceiling instead, illuminating their humble chamber from above. Both their gazes followed it for a moment.

“But Merlin, I thought you were out cold when I went to that cave to get that flower for you?”  
“I was. I saw you in my dream struggling against Nimueh. So I sent you a light.” He smiled a little at the wording, fully expecting Arthur’s jibe in return.  “You dream of me? Now Merlin that’s really a girly thing to do.”

“The correct answer, my lord, is: Thank you for your help, Merlin, without which I would be dead by now.”  
“You seem to forget that you would be dead too.”

Merlin shrugged and mumbled “Prat”.

The silence settled again, this time it was much more comfortable though. The light of the sphere above was slowly fading. “We should try to sleep.”  
Arthur hmmd in agreement and shifted again, his side now fully pressed to Merlin’s. The warmth of the other body had lost its contrasting effect and instead lulled Merlin into a calm almost-sleep while he listened to the silence that wasn’t really all that silent anymore. The wooden bed frame creaked every time one of them moved only the slightest bit, there were steps and muffled sounds from the inn below and outside a nocturnal bird screeched. Merlin knew that this wasn’t over, Arthur had far from forgiven him but for today they had talked enough.

He didn’t know how much time passed like this. His thoughts drifting in a dreamlike state, neither really asleep nor fully awake. He wanted to rest properly but he knew that was probably impossible after all the things that had happened in the last few days. If he remembered correctly the last time he had really slept must have been the night before Morgana sent the Eancanah – not including the little knock-out by the Sidhe but part of him absolutely refused to wreck his mind over this issue too. He had to sort out Arthur first now that he was safe and they had finally defeated all their enemies. He would deal with the Sidhe later, preferably much later.

The rather loud barking of a dog interrupted Merlin’s messy introspective, startling him. He rubbed his eyes, dragging himself in an upright position while Arthur still snored soundly next to him.  
For a moment Merlin was seriously tempted to - clumsy as he was - knock the king out of the bed but then decided against it. Arthur wasn’t a morning person, especially if morning was actually the middle of the night, and he didn’t want to endanger the still fresh truce between them.  
So he tried to make out what was going outside on his own, but with puffy eyes and almost no light he couldn’t even spot the dog properly. It took him a bit of magical enhancement to finally make out the beast, pressed against the wall of a shabby house while barking frantically at something at the other side of the square. Merlin squinted but couldn’t see what the cause of all this commotion was and considered for a moment to just mute the mutt with some magic when something caught his eye. It was a movement, barely recognizable, the swish of a long cloak on the uneven floor.  
Merlin pressed his nose flat against the cold pane of the window but whatever it had been it was gone now, only the fading impression of red had somehow imprinted itself into his retinas. He rubbed his eyes again. The dog also got silenced by a hard blow over the head and a growled threat by its owner. This was all so weirdly surreal, Merlin massaged his temples and lay back again.  
And while he stared at the ceiling he wasn’t even sure anymore it had really happened.

* * *

 

Arthur barely registered the push before he fell.  But the impact on the wooden floor was certainly enough to wake him up properly.  
  
“Merlin!” The word had left his mouth before he could even think about it. So he dragged himself into an upright position only to see his servant still sleeping innocently on the bed. He reached for his sword and considered scaring the incompetent idiot into consciousness when Merlin turned around, his arms wrapped around his lean frame, shaking slightly.  
Arthur frowned. What was going on? The idiot was whimpering quite pathetically, his eyelids fluttering as if… as if he had a nightmare.   
Without much thinking he grabbed Merlin’s shoulders and started shaking him. He didn’t expect the startled cry and the golden gleam when the latter’s eyes finally snapped open though.

“Arthur…” he mumbled, blinking confusedly against the daylight.  
“It’s only a dream, you idiot. Now get up!” Arthur let go of him and considered the matter settled while he turned away from Merlin towards the strewn items on the floor, searching for his belt. Merlin didn’t move from the bed though, still caught in the afterglow of the dream – whatever it had been.  
  
Arthur sighed. He didn’t really have the nerve to deal with this right now. He wasn’t a morning person and he was hungry. So he buckled the belt with more ferocity than necessary and collected the rest of his clothes while his useless servant still stared into empty space.  
“Merlin, get your lazy bum moving. I want to get back to Camelot, preferably today.”  
That seemed to do the trick because Merlin shook his head and then snapped his attention back at Arthur, only now really looking at him. “Oh… yeah… sure.”  
  
He scrambled to his feet and helped Arthur with the remaining clothes, still a bit jittery though in the way his hands moved too erratically and imprecisely. Arthur couldn’t supress an eye roll.  
“What was the dream about?” He finally asked.  
“Dream?”  
“Your nightmare. And don’t you dare telling me this display of scatterbrainedness is normal, because I know it’s not.”  
  
“Ahhhh I don’t remember.” Merlin stood back a little, his expression something between sheepish and strained but at least awake, for now.  
Arthur frowned. “I thought we had settled on you telling me the truth from now on.” With that he turned towards the door and left for the taproom. Merlin stared after him with a dumbfounded expression before he had collected himself – and his clothes – enough to run after the king.

“Arthur… I really don’t remember….”  
  
He only caught up with him downstairs when Arthur was already seated at the table they had occupied the day before. “I really don’t remember properly,” he repeated in a low voice while he sat down opposite the other man.  “It was weird, I can’t grasp it… but it was nothing.”  
Arthur gave him a critical once-over then decided to the wave the serving wench over nonetheless. As Brianna didn’t seem to have morning duty, the inn keeper came personally and took their orders.

“This _nothing_ had you staring into space for two whole minutes and, Merlin, your eyes….” The meaningful gesture told the rest. Merlin swallowed and lowered his gaze to the table, obviously uncomfortable, so Arthur added: “If there is something more you want tell me, now would be...”  
“NO!” Merlin interrupted a bit more vehemently than intended because it got them the little number of early morning customers looking their way.   
“No,” he repeated a bit calmer. “It was really nothing. It has never happened before and I don’t remember anyway. Not everything is…” he paused before adding, “magic.”  
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “And yesterday you had me believe that was exactly the case.”  
  
The inn keeper brought their breakfast while they stared at each other, Merlin obviously still rather confused what had actually caused this fight. Arthur wasn’t that sure about it either. The fact alone that the first thing in the morning he got to see was his “trusted” manservant tormented by dreams and knowledge – magic, he mentally supplied – he had no idea of, wasn’t exactly how he imagined a good start into the day.  
  
Without paying much attention to it he started sipping the flavourless soup they had been served. Merlin did the same while eyeing him sporadically for any signs of another outburst, but the issue was over by Arthur’s standards. He didn’t want to think about it right now. Today was the day he was supposed to return to Camelot victoriously, he should rejoice. Just that he wasn’t. Not with his useless servant around, who was trying to throw him some inquiring puppy eyed look over his bowl. “You’re being ridiculous, Merlin.” Arthur muttered while staring down the little carrot piece floating in the brown liquid before him.  
“Not more ridiculous than you, clotpole,” Merlin countered. “What’s wrong with you, Arthur?”  
“What’s wrong with _me_? I’m not the one with…” he didn’t get any further instead a loud bang from the main door interrupted them. A middle-aged man stormed in, not paying any attention to the patrons and aimed directly for the landlord instead. “I couldn’t find her. She’s not at Baelfire’s.” [2]  
A collective whisper went through the room, everybody apparently aware of the meaning of the newcomer’s words. Several people got up and joined the two of them at the counter and a rather lively discussion ensued. Arthur and Merlin observed the whole thing rather sceptically because every once in a while one of the locals threw misgiving look their way.

“Whatever’s going on, apparently we are responsible.” Arthur said, getting up in a rather demonstrative manner. “When aren’t we responsible?” retorted Merlin with a self-deprecating half smile and joined his king. An unspoken agreement had been reached between them that they were glad for this little distraction.

“What’s going on, people?” Arthur asked openly into the room, approaching the counter now.  
“It doesn’t concern you,” came one of the voices from the crowd but the people still made way for him, so that he could see the wary inn keeper, who seemed to have aged about ten years since yesterday. Arthur wondered briefly how he couldn’t have noticed the man’s troubled appearance before, but apparently his own troubled idiot was enough to make him turn blind. He mentally noted not to let himself get absorbed in Merlin’s issues again, at least not too quickly.

“It’s Brianna, milord. She’s missing.”  
Arthur frowned and threw a look in Merlin’s direction, only to see that he seemed as surprised as himself. “And I assume you already checked all the places she could be?”

The inn keeper nodded.

“And she doesn’t have acquaintances outside the village she might have decided to visit on short notice?” barged Merlin in.  
“No, not that I’m aware of,” the inn keeper supplied dutifully.  
“And she wouldn’t leave without telling anybody,” added another voice. Arthur hummed and rubbed his chin. It almost appeared as if answering the two strangers’ questions – they came from the court after all – seemed to have a calming effect on the crowd. They all regarded them expectantly, though this slight trace of suspicion wasn’t entirely gone either.

“She’s an attractive young woman, couldn’t she have a lover some…” Arthur couldn’t finish, the loud bang of a fist crashing on a table’s surface and making the tankards on it rattle, interrupted him. He turned around slowly, facing the middle-aged man, whose arrival had caused this whole ruckus. His face was red up to under the hairline. “She doesn’t have a lover,” he spoke slowly, pressed, “she’s a virtuous maiden.”  
Arthur wasn’t so sure about that, considering her interest in him yesterday, but he certainly wouldn’t contradict this angry defender of Brianna’s virtue. “You’re her father, I presume.” The man nodded.

Arthur took a deep breath and scanned the people in the tavern once more. They mostly consisted of men and women, who were past their prime. Now that he thought about it, Brianna had been the only young person they had seen, who wouldn’t be considered a child. He understood that many of the younger people left for a more promising life in the city, but Thennos wasn’t such a backwater village as, for example, Ealdor – Arthur always thought of Ealdor when he needed the mental image of an utterly remote place.

“Where are all the other young people?” he asked despite already guessing the answer.  
Someone snorted. “Fighting for the king, of course.”  
“The war is over. They’ll soon return,” he supplied in the gentlest manner he could muster. Next to him Merlin shifted a little closer, their arms brushing. He had held back until now because this was a discussion Arthur had to face on his own. He was the king and he had called these men to battle, and even if these villagers didn’t know who he was, he felt responsible to answer to their questions and calls.

“If they return!”  
“They will! We had losses but they weren’t as big as they could have been. Thanks to the generous help of….”

_A sorcerer_

He couldn’t finish the sentence but the people weren’t listing properly anyway. An agitation had broken out and the mood, which had been at the brink of tipping over for a while, had gone sour now. Irate whispers were shared amongst the people. They were wary of him, he was a knight of Camelot after all. One of those people, who had taken their children from them.  
So Arthur held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“People, your sons will return soon. They fought valiantly in a battle we won and the witch is finally defeated, so this was _– hopefully –_ the last one in a long time.” He looked around, purposefully having drawn himself up to his full height because he knew of the effect it normally had. The people looked still angry but they had heard him and that was the most important thing.

“As for the missing girl,” Arthur went on, “if she doesn’t turn up within a day, send word to Camelot, someone to investigate the case shall be sent.”

This announcement made the volumes of the whispers in the room rise to a new level, but Arthur had already turned around and was facing the door now. There was nothing left they could do concerning the girl’s absence right now.  
He was approaching the exit when somebody called after him: “How can you make such promises? You talk as if you were the king!”  
A small smile spread on his face and he was already about to turn around when Merlin placed a hand on his upper arm and beat him to it. “Because he _is_ the king,” he simply said, the crowd behind them gaping as they left the inn.

“You enjoy this kind of displays, don’t you?” he asked Merlin when they were back in the square.  
Merlin grinned and retorted slyly: “Not as much as you do, Your Majesty.”

Arthur laughed.

* * *

 

Their journey back to Camelot had been uneventful. They had talked a little about the missing girl, the soldiers returning home and the people in Camelot waiting for the two of them; but they purposefully avoided the topic of Merlin’s nightmare.  
Merlin was grateful for it though. He didn’t really know what to make of if and he knew even less what to tell Arthur, so he was glad to let it rest and tick it off as a one time event.

As the walls of Camelot were approaching, Merlin started to feel edgy. He thought of Gaius and all the things that had happened in the few days since he had last seen the man. It felt like a lifetime. He told Arthur so, who only nodded in agreement first but then paused, „Since when did he know?”  
The question made Merlin wince involuntarily. He bit his lips before he answered with a sigh, “Since the very first day.”  The hurt in Arthur’s face was so blatantly obvious that Merlin felt the wave of guilt practically crushing him. That’s why he added, “He fell from the railing, I couldn’t let him break every bone in his body because I had barged in without knocking.”

Arthur forced a little laugh. “There. That proves it.”  
“Proves what, Arthur?”

“The knocking, Merlin! I always knew there was something wrong with you for not knocking like normal people do.”

Merlin joined Arthur with the forced smile but said nothing more. They were almost there now. But the sight of Camelot’s white walls was not as reassuring as it could have been because there rose a column of black smoke over the citadel. Merlin stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze glued to it like a bad omen but Arthur nudged him, beckoning him to move. “They’re honouring the dead. It’s not…”  
The sentence stay unfinished but Merlin nodded. Of course, it was the pyres for the fallen soldiers, not sorcerers burning in the yard.  Merlin knew that, but sometimes he still feared.

They passed the gate to the Lower Town. There were surprisingly little people on the streets, many of them probably attending the ceremony. Those that were around though displayed the usual lethargy that seemed to take a hold of people once the battle was over and it became clear how high the price for victory was. Because someone always paid it.

They didn’t speak as the passed the stands. It was uncalled for. Still Arthur gave little nods when people recognized him, their surprise written plainly on their faces. It broke their stupor and the whispers started to travel, accompanying Arthur and Merlin as they ascended to the castle. By the time the had arrived at the inner wall, Camelot seemed a lot more alive again. People left their houses or opened their windows to see the two of them pass. They waved and the shout of “the king is back!” was several blocks ahead of them.

A pleased smile spread over Arthur’s face and Merlin couldn’t help feeling a bit elevated either. Yes, the king was back indeed, and that was because of him.  
The positive feeling quickly evaporated though when he spotted the multitude of pyres piled in the court. There was a whole circle of lower ones built around three higher ones in the middle, and all of them burned.

The smoke burned in Merlin’s eyes when they tried to squeeze themselves through the crowd that stood tightly packed and clad in dark colours at the edge of the court. It was all so solemn that the surprised gasp when finally someone yelled “make space for the king” seemed almost surreal.  
The crowd parted, confusion and joy flitting over their faces, as if they were unsure if it was appropriate to feel pleasure at such an occasion. Arthur handled the whole situation with his usual kingly grace, lifting his hand and reassuring people while at the same time looking benevolently stern and not hesitating in making his way to the other side of the court where his queen waited at the stairs.

Gwen had stumbled down a few steps before she had caught herself and was now waiting with the same dignity her husband displayed while he walked over to her. Merlin could only observe with awe as the two of them embraced quickly before Arthur turned to the crowd once more, facing the burning pyres and making entirely clear that now wasn’t to moment to celebrate his return. It was the last glory for the deceased, so for once the living could wait. The crowd seemed to understand that as well, because the agitation settled and the attention returned to the slowly dwindling fires of the funeral pyres. Still, some of the joy stayed.

Merlin stood next to Gaius, who only reached for his hand and gifted him with a smile that said more than a thousand words. “Welcome home, my boy”.  
Merlin smiled and at the same time felt tears rising to his eyes. “It’s good to be back,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I actually think it rather hard to make sense of distances in Merlin. In 1x07 “The Gates of Avalon” we get the impression that lake Avalon is so close to Camelot that Aulfric and Merlin can get there (and back) within one night, but in 3x13 (“The Coming of Arthur, Part 2”) Merlin tells Kilgarrah, who he meets somewhere outside of Camelot, that lake Avalon is 20 leagues (so around 95 km) away and that’s why he must fly him there. It’s a bit contradictory, so I decided to make it a two-day walk instead.  
> [2] I might have stolen that one from ONCE UPON A TIME.


	3. Chapter 2

Merlin felt drained. Groaning he ran a hand over his aching forehead and tried to drag himself upright. A good night’s rest certainly felt different. Barely seeing, his gaze shifted to his room’s little window while the last remnants of his dream were swirling before his inner eye, their elusiveness making him uneasy. With a dismissive gesture he tried to chase them away, not wanting to think about them while he tried to focus on the grey sky outside. His whole body was aching.

On the other side of the door he heard Gaius bustling about and decided it must be significantly later than what he normally got up. The sky didn’t give much away, so Merlin relented and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He had to get up eventually, even though he felt like he hadn’t slept at all. Remiss he washed and gathered his strewn clothes. This was supposed to be a good day, wasn’t it? With Arthur back in Camelot, alive and healthy, and Merlin in a position he could actually tell him the truth he should have felt jubilant. Just that he didn’t. He was still too raw from whatever nightmare had plagued him during the night and from the goodbye he had said to all the fallen knights the day before. His gaze strayed to the window once more, before he sighed deeply and finished dressing.

When he stumbled into the work room Gaius was leaning over a concoction, giving it a critical stare.  
“Good morning,” Merlin greeted, only to grimace a moment later.   
“What are you brewing? It smells… interesting.” He tried to conceal the holding of his nose behind a badly timed cough and steered towards their usual table.  
Gaius ignored Merlin’s antics, gesturing towards a bowl, still focused on the cauldron’s contents. “I made porridge for you. I hope you’re hungry. But considering the time you really should be.”

Merlin sat down and wrinkled his nose one last time before taking up the spoon.  
“How late is?” he asked half chewing, half swallowing.   
“Well, certainly too late to consider that breakfast. And how many times do I have to tell you to swallow before you…” the rest of the sentence remained unsaid and Gaius reverted to just shaking his head. Merlin sent a sheepish grin in his direction.  
“It’s very good,” he supplied apologetically. Gaius raised an eyebrow at him.  
“Don’t think you can sweet-talk your way out of this. Oversleeping is one thing, but spending half of the day in bed won’t keep you in Arthur’s services for much longer.”  
Merlin went on chewing, unimpressed. “The last few days were not exactly relaxing, Arthur knows that. He won’t sack me now because I’m a bit late.”  
  
Gaius turned towards him, giving him a critical once-over. “Merlin, you’re not just a bit late. It’s early afternoon, you literally spent half of the day in bed.” Merlin put the spoon down, looking a bit dumbfounded but Gaius continued, “and while I understand that it’s important for you to rest properly after everything that happened I think you shouldn’t test Arthur’s patience.”  
He wiped his hands on a cloth before approaching the table, studying Merlin with a serious expression. “Is everything alright with you, my boy?”

“I… I didn’t sleep very well,” Merlin confessed, staring at the half-empty bowl in front of him. “But I don’t think it’s anything. Just the nerves, you know.”

Gaius nodded and pulled out the chair opposite of Merlin.

“Well, let’s hope that’s indeed the case because my information on Sidhe magic has proven to be rather limited when it comes to the kind of encounter you described.”  
Merlin looked up with a frown. “What does that mean?”

Gaius gestured towards a pile of books before fixing Merlin with another intent gaze. “So far I haven’t been able to find any record of somebody entering a deal with the Sidhe and coming out of it alive,” and after a moment of hesitation he added, “it almost seems as if your case is really a first.”   
  
Merlin didn’t react until suddenly a little huffed laugh escaped him. “But that’s good, isn’t it.”   
He looked at Gaius und despite the grin there was something visibly pained in his expression.  
“Couldn’t it be that for once something good is happening without it having a catch? I mean I was surprised too but we defeated Morgana, we fulfilled the prophecy, it would only be fair that…”   he couldn’t continue, his throat had begun the feel constricted and his vision blurred a bit around the edges, but Gaius seemed to understand anyway. He gave a little wordless nod and patted Merlin’s shoulder.  
  
“I hope so, my boy, I really do. But until we know for sure we still shouldn’t neglect research.”  
  
Merlin couldn’t say anything to that but instead only responded with a curt nod and got up.

* * *

  
  
Outside Merlin squinted at the too bright sky. It was a hot and grey day, the sun hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. He dragged his feet across the courtyard and for a moment the thought crossed his mind that the ashes from the funeral pyres had already been removed. It made him wonder again how late it actually was, but then he suppressed the thought. Some servants waved at him and Merlin forced himself to smile and wave back. He took a deep breath before he pushed the doors to the castle open and entered. Inside it was cooler but Merlin still felt too raw for anything. In a way he knew that something wasn’t right with him, that he should be feeling better about all of this. But he couldn’t be bothered to give his own gloomy mood more consideration when he steered his steps in the direction of Arthur’s chambers. He even knocked.

When no answer came he frowned and took a step back. For a moment he considered just entering like he always did but then a hand landed heavily on his shoulder and stopped him dead in his track. Sir Bors stood behind him. With his big frame, big voice and big hands Merlin often thought of him as some kind of older - yet much louder- version of Percival.   
“The king’s at the council meeting,” he proclaimed with a nod in the direction of the council chambers, giving him a mock stern glance.  
“Oh,” Merlin frowned on confusion, “but the council always meets in the afternoon.”

“Well, it is afternoon.”

“Oh,” said Merlin once more and scanned his surroundings as if looking for proof for the knight’s words but found nothing. His bafflement must have shown on his face because Sir Bors patted his shoulder a bit harder than necessary. “Must have been a hard few days for you, boy. But we’re all glad you brought us back the king alive and healthy. You know there were rumours….”  
  
“Rumours?,” he asked, still not really paying attention.

“Yeah, about the king being fatally wounded and you dragging him away to work some…” Bors flicked his wrist, “… some magic.”  
Suddenly very attentive, Merlin had to suppress a violent flinch. “What?”

Bors laughed loudly and clapped his back some more over Merlin’s comically wide eyes. “Oh don’t worry, boy. Nobody really believes you’re a sorcerer. It’s just the usual gossip.” With that he walked away and left a puzzled and slightly disorientated Merlin standing in front of Arthur’s closed door.

Merlin stared after him before he shook his head to clear his mind. This day was really weird. And with Arthur unavailable he was actually a bit unsure about what to do with himself. Normally he would be gifted with the endless list of chores the king used to pass on to him, but today it almost seemed as if his person wasn’t really needed. That felt even weirder.

His feet started to move before he could really think about where to go. That’s why it surprised him all the more when he suddenly found himself in front of the entrance to the royal gardens.   
It wasn’t an area he frequented often, as Arthur didn’t tend to display much interest in them. Too flowery, too feminine. And for once Merlin even agreed with him – well, not with the feminine, but the flowery. As a physician (and a sorcerer) he, of course, cherished all sorts of plants, but the flowers in the castle garden were mostly cultured for their beauty and held no other medical (or magical) appeal. He let his fingers run over the soft, whitish-pink petals of a rose blossom that hung from an arch overhead, when he crossed into the garden. He could, however, admit they were pretty without hesitation.

The figure in the middle of the garden was observing him as he approached. She was smiling.

“Lovely, aren’t they?” she greeted.  
“Don’t forget about the thorns,” he answered with a smile and took her hand to kiss it. She giggled.  
“Oh Merlin, when have you become such a charmer?”  
“I always was, you just never noticed, my lady,” he winked at her.

“Don’t be so sure about that.” She patted the space next to her. Merlin complied and sat down on the small stone bench next to Camelot’s queen. For a moment they sat in silence, just observing the beauty surrounding them before Merlin spoke: “You know it surprises me a little to find you here.”  
She nodded in acknowledgement but let her gaze continue wandering over the petals and blossoms.  
“I know. I don’t come here often. It’s queen Ygraine’s garden, not mine.” She sounded thoughtful but when she finally turned to him, a little smirk started to play over her features. So with a teasing undertone she added: “If it was, I would probably root out all the pretty flowers and plant onions and herbs so the things the kitchen staff couldn’t complain anymore about always having to get them from the fields outside the citadel.”

They both laughed.

“The kitchen staff would certainly be most grateful to you for doing so.”  
 She nodded before turning more earnest, once more. “Thank you for bringing him back. You don’t know what that means to me.” She shifted a bit closer to Merlin and their hands brushed on the bench’s surface. Gwen seemed to take it as the clue to put hers over Merlin’s. He only smiled and let her.  
“It means as much to me as it does to you,” he answered truthfully.

Gwen squeezed his hand. They both dwelled on their own thoughts for a moment.   
“What do you think is going to happen now?” she asked. The questions startled Merlin a little yet he still tried to give his voice a light tone when he answered: “We’ve won, so everything’s supposed to be fine.”

“It’s supposed to, isn’t it?” She sighed deeply and turned her gaze towards the horizon. Merlin regarded her attentively. Sometimes he forgot that Gwen had much more insight than she let on.  
“I’m going to miss her,” she said softly. “I know that after all she did she doesn’t deserve it, yet still I miss her. The old Morgana, you know. The good one.”  
  
The remark made Merlin swallow. He hadn’t seen it coming because he hadn’t spared Morgana much thought since… _Since he had killed her_. His heart clenched and another hurt was added to an already very long list.   
  
“I ran her through with Arthur’s sword,” he confessed.  
“I know. He told me.”

Merlin could feel the frequency of his aching heart increase rapidly. “What else has he told you?”

She regarded him with an attentive yet curious expression. “Not much. He didn’t seem that clear on the details of the events. He only said that you dragged him to a lake and that you encountered Morgana on the way there. When she focused on him to deal her killing blow you used the chance and ran her through. You saved him.”

Merlin’s frantic pulse slowed down a little bit but he couldn’t suppress a grimace. That was a rather vague description of the real events but considering the circumstances probably the only appropriate one. So he ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath before offering Gwen a forced smile. “Yes, that’s – “  
“He also said he would tell me more when the time was right.”

Merlin blinked at her, stunned. “What?”  
“I don’t think that’s necessary though.” She threw him a mischievous smile and Merlin, for a moment, wasn’t sure if he had heard correctly.   
“What?” he stuttered again.

She lifted Merlin’s hand into her lap, now holding it with both of her own. Her gaze, despite being so gentle and warm, did the rest to hold him in place. Merlin knew he must have appeared like a frightened deer but he couldn’t help shivering because of what was coming.

“I know, Merlin,” she stated, her voice clear and firm. “You’re a sorcerer. You have always been. I see that now.”  
  
Merlin heard the words ringing in his ears and there was no denying it, no running from it. He felt himself shaking, barely able to return her intense stare. “Gwen,” he whispered.  
“You don’t have to be afraid.” She laced their fingers together and broke eye contact. “I know what you have done for us. You saved Arthur with magic. Actually, you saved all of us with magic.”

Merlin was at a loss for words. He could still feel the thrumming of his own heart in every fibre of his body. “I-I don’t know what to say. How- How did you…”  
She touched her fingers to his lips, softly making him shut up. “When I saw you at Camlann, I knew. And Gaius, he didn’t deny it.”  
  
Merlin nodded, still shaken to the core. Until now he had never been found out. And even though he had wished for nothing more than his friends seeing him for who he truly was for years now, it scared him beyond measure. “I wanted to tell you. All of you,” his voice hitched.  
Gwen patted his hand reassuringly. “It’s alright, Merlin. I understand how hard it must have been for you.” She bedded her head on his shoulder, weirdly blurring the image of who was the one in need of comfort.

“Maybe everything _is_ going to be fine now,” she whispered, more to herself than him.  
Merlin blinked. His eyes were burning and he wiped them in a hasty gesture. Maybe Gwen was right, after all.

“Look at that! Two lovebirds lazing about in the garden!”  
Merlin jerked up immediately but Gwen lifted her head in the most relaxed manner and only smiled in the direction of the newcomer’s voice. “Arthur, love, come join us!”  
Arthur still wore his ceremonial robes, making Merlin conclude that he must come directly from the council meeting, when he strode over to them. “I was looking for you, Merlin. Where have you been?” Merlin frowned, he still felt a bit startled and confused about the whole situation.   
“Well, I could say the same about you. When I came to your chambers you were gone.”   
The king only rolled his eyes. “I have duties, unlike some other people.”  
He quickly scanned their still linked hands, rewarding his manservant with a look that said _you big girl_ most articulately, before sitting down next to him. Surrounded like this, by his king and queen, Merlin wondered for a moment if the two of them had planned this; and came to the conclusion that they most certainly had when they exchanged some meaningful looks.  
  
Arthur cleared his throat. “I wanted to speak with you but when you didn’t turn up this morning I remembered that I had promised you a day off.” Merlin rewarded him with a frown.  
“My day off is today? It’s a bit of a waste if I know nothing about it.”

“Well, why do you think I sent nobody to fetch you? You’re not getting a free ticket just because…”

_You’re a sorcerer_

Arthur still couldn’t say it and filled in the rest with a not very graceful swish of his hand and a grimace. Merlin was ok with it though. Hearing it more than once a day was more than he could handle right now anyway. So he gave Arthur a curt, acknowledging nod.  
“Alright, but you actually promised me two days off. And don’t pretend you don’t remember.”

Arthur snorted. “I do remember but I never said you could have them subsequently. Besides, putting up with George is a nuisance.”  
“Can’t king prat do anything on his own?” Merlin asked teasingly, though the insult mostly served the purpose of covering up his own confusion over the situation. The king gave a disapproving glare and mumbled something along the lines of putting the stocks to good use again soon.  
  
Next to him Gwen patted his knee but the little nod of her head, Merlin only noticed because he knew her so well, indicated that they were only just steering towards the actual point of their conversation. He swallowed and tried to prepare himself for whatever this was about. After all, there had to be a reason he was sitting in the castle gardens, flanked by Camelot’s kind and queen like they were trying to guard him.

Arthur took a deep breath, Merlin could hear it.

 “Now that Morgana is gone it will be necessary to address the laws on magic with the council.”  
  
The tension was growing inside Merlin. So this was it. He could still feel Gwen’s hand on his knee, trying to reassure him, but the rising noise of his own hammering heartbeat was threatening to overwhelm her gentle gesture. He looked at Arthur, who now appeared about as tense as Merlin, a layer of sweat glistening on his forehead. Then his gaze drifted to Gwen, who gave him a strained smile.

And then everything clicked into place.

His two friends sitting at his left and his right were not trying to guard him, they were trying to console him. Before Arthur could even say the words he knew what was coming.

“Merlin, I can’t make magic legal. It’s too early. The people…”  
  
Arthur said some more but Merlin didn’t hear it any longer. Even though he had kind of expected this announcement it still hurt, more than he could say. He let his shoulders slump and tried to calm his raging emotions by taking some deep breaths. Gwen was looking at him unhappily and even Arthur seemed sorry for a moment, before he pulled himself up to his full kingly height and added in a serious voice: “But these laws aren’t set in stone. Up until now they have been necessary, but who knows what the future brings. Things still might change.”

Merlin looked up, surprised. He scanned Arthur’s face and discovered the hint of a smile. He tried to smile back but didn’t really succeed. “Yeah, that’s for the best.”

He wanted to get up when a little self-conscious cough interrupted him. Alena, Gwen’s maidservant, had turned up practically out of thin air and was now purposefully avoiding to look at them. “Your Highnesses, Merlin,” she curtsied and Merlin felt, despite everything, a bit amused by the situation. He was aware what an odd picture the three of them were making right now.   
  
“The steward has requested your presence, my lady. Apparently it’s a matter of urgency,” Alena said, now clearly addressing Gwen and obviously having decided to ignore the queerness of the situation.  
Gwen nodded and got up without any hesitation. “Well, if it’s a matter of urgency,” she sighed in a mock dramatic fashion before following her maid out of the garden. Merlin chuckled a little when he watched her leave. Gwen was still Gwen after all.

However, that left him and Arthur alone. They sat in silence before the king finally broke the recurring tension. “Are you angry?” he asked.  
Merlin shook his head. “No, I kinda expected it. It would have been too easy anyway.”  
He sent a strained smile in Arthur’s direction but couldn’t help wringing his hands absent-mindedly while doing so.   
Arthur sighed. “Then why didn’t you turn up this morning?” He was looking at him now with a measuring gaze, a frown on his forehead. “You didn’t think I would do anything to you, did you?”

“What?! No! I – I overslept and wasn’t sure if I was still…” Merlin gestured between them but Arthur understood.    
“So you decided to not turn up at all? Merlin, you’re really the laziest and most incompetent servant I ever had.” Arthur thwacked him over the head in mock exasperation.  
“Hey! I told you, I did turn up eventually but you weren’t there! Not my fault you think council meetings are more important.” He rubbed the side of his head and pulled a face.

“I was talking about the morning! Or are you trying to tell me you were having a lay-in for half of the day?!” When Merlin didn’t answer and only gave him a sheepish grin instead, Arthur looked a bit scandalized. “Really Merlin, what’s wrong with you?” Arthur shook his head in disbelief but Merlin simply shrugged and refrained from saying any more. Arthur already thought him an idiot, so there was no need to confirm his suspicions. Silence settled between them and Merlin leaned back to listened the sounds of the crickets chirping, trying to let the tension drain from his body. Next to him he could feel Arthur watching.

“Did you have another nightmare?” Arthur asked in a softer voice.  
Instinctively Merlin wanted to shake his head and say no but then he remembered that he had actually sworn to himself to be more truthful to Arthur and his friends.   
“Maybe,” he admitted meekly and sat up a bit straighter again. “I don’t remember properly. I certainly didn’t sleep very well. But it doesn’t matter, it’s nothing.”  
  
“It’s not nothing!” Arthur all back to his booming self grabbed his shoulder and shook it. “If this has anything to do with magic, Merlin, then… then…” He stared at him with a resolute intensity in his blue eyes but deflated quickly when he noticed that he couldn’t finish the sentence.  
“There’s nothing you can do, Arthur.” Merlin said softly while peeling himself out of Arthur’s grip.  
  
“Then _you_ should do something about it.” Arthur sounded frustrated but also determined. It made Merlin wonder if maybe he had a point, if there really was something he had neglected to take into consideration so far.  
“I’ll have a look into it,” he thus conceded to promise.  
“Do that! Ask Gaius, or whatever the two of you are normally up to.”   
Arthur got up a bit more abruptly than necessary but it was obvious to Merlin that his intended austerity was actually concern. So Merlin nodded like the good compliant servant he was not but really meant to do as Arthur said – at least for the moment.

“Merlin, if this turns out to be any kind of side effect of what you pacted with the Sidhe, then you’ll undo it immediately.”  
“What?!No!” Merlin was on his feet at once, staring into Arthur’s stern face. “It has nothing to do with the Sidhe, I swear!”

Arthur gave him a raised eyebrow. “Well, let’s hope that’s true, but you yourself told me that magic always comes at a price.” With that he turned around and started walking towards the castle and leaving a baffled Merlin behind.

* * *

 

Arthur couldn’t sleep. It was too hot and he had too many thoughts on his head. So he tossed and turned but it didn’t get any better.  
He had seen Gwen before retiring and they had discussed the situation with Merlin and the council some more but didn’t come to a more useful conclusion than before. Initially Arthur had felt a bit offended – not that he would ever admit it – when his wife had confessed she knew about his manservant’s secret too. It had made him feel left out, like he was the only one who couldn’t be trusted, but Gwen’s assurance that it was only the battle of Camlann that had opened her eyes was enough to put his mind at ease once more, at least for the moment.  
She seemed by far less concerned about the whole situation anyway. She always smiled when she patted his hand and said things like “But it’s Merlin” and “He has always been special”. Arthur could only nod at that. Of course, he had noticed it too that there was something about Merlin. He would have opted to call it “peculiar” not “special” though, but in the end it was all the same, wasn’t it.

Arthur ran a hand over his face and stared at the canopy of his bed. Then, without much further ado, he pushed back the blanket and got up. It was pointless to stay in bed when he felt utterly restless, some movement would do him good. So he slipped into a light tunic and pair of trousers that was normally reserved for indoors and left his chambers. The guards outside startled when he passed them but he waved them to stand at ease with a wordless movement of his hand.  
  
The corridors were deserted at this hour; he only saw the occasional, lonely patrols making their rounds. They never said anything, only nodded in acknowledgment and let him pass. In a way they didn’t appear fully awake either. Arthur pursed his lips and wondered if that should alert him but decided that it was something to think about tomorrow. He only fully realised where his feet had led him when he was standing in front of the entry to the crypt. The doors were closed as he hadn’t been down here in quite a while. After the incident with his father’s ghost he hadn’t really felt the need to come and visit Uther as often as he had before. Actually, he hadn’t come since he had blown the horn.  
  
Arthur sighed and pushed the heavy doors open. He took the lit torch and started following the dark tunnel that led to the kings of Camelot’s last resting place. His steps echoed loudly from the walls and the now much cooler air made him shiver. For a moment the image of a really scared-looking Merlin, cowering behind him, crossed his mind and made him smirk. Yes, were Merlin here with him, he would most certainly be complaining about how creepy and scary all of this was, clinging to Arthur like some girl. Arthur could only shake his head. Most powerful sorcerer in history, as if.   
  
However, even Arthur couldn’t help a violent flinch when there suddenly was a noise that most definitely didn’t come from him. He stopped dead in his track and listened. It sounded a bit like someone sobbing but he couldn’t be sure, maybe it was just… the wind?  
He threw another glance back while continuing down his path and promptly stumbled over his own feet. He caught the fall but felt quite embarrassed about it. It was really lucky that he had come here alone, nobody needed to see the king of Camelot behaving like a frightened idiot.

He huffed and wiped the cooled sweat of his forehead. This was ridiculous because he actually knew for certain there were no ghosts down here. _There could be something else though_ , his mind not very helpfully supplied. For a moment he regretted not having brought a weapon but then abandoned the thought quickly. He was nearing the mausoleum, and Arthur was grateful that the drapes and banners hanging from the walls here soothed the drumming echo of his footsteps.

He pushed open the iron gate separating him from the chamber.  The screeching noise made him wince and he stared at the hinges resentfully. He should really have them oiled.  
And while his thoughts still dwelled on that, he registered a movement. Out of the corner of his eye he had seen someone… or something, he wasn’t sure. It was like the afterimage of something he knew used to be there but no longer was. He stared at the darkness but apart from the flickering shadows his torch created he was the only living being here.   
Arthur shook his head and decided that he had definitely had had too much nonsense in the last few days. It was messing with his head. So he followed the neat line of crypts to the newest one, that of king Uther Pendragon. Before he approached it, he left the torch in the holder though. It all had a rather ritualistic character. He would stand there first, regard the stone counterpart of his father, then he would step closer, slowly, reach out his hand and finally touch it. As always it was cool under his fingers and as always Arthur wondered why that was.

A sad smile spread over his features. His father had been gone for almost five years now, yet sometimes his loss still felt as fresh and raw as the first day. Arthur let his hand wander until it rested on the statues shoulder. He didn’t need to ask himself what Uther would be doing were he in his place right now.

_Have them all executed_

Merlin, Gaius and even Gwen. They all would be burning at the stake, every protest of goodwill or innocence unheard or suffocated before it could even be properly formulated. His father wouldn’t be having this kind of emotional conflict. But Arthur didn’t need to debate over this fact. He knew he wasn’t his father. He didn’t want to harm these people, even if he could practically hear his father’s voice saying that he was under some kind of spell and the sorcerers were secretly overrunning Camelot. Arthur tried to imagine Merlin scheming and pulling all the strings in the background, all the while cackling like some lunatic. It didn’t work. Merlin was... well, an idiot and apparently also a lot cleverer than he let on but he had known that before.  
  
Arthur sighed and put both his hands on the frame of Uther’s stony resting place, holding himself upright. He stared into empty space, wondering what to do. Could he really make magic legal? After everything his father had taught him and Morgana had done? He knew neither was a beacon of righteousness but thinking of them as nothing more as mad tyrants was something he just couldn’t bring himself to do. They were the only family he had ever had, each standing at an opposing end of the spectrum. He knew that the middle way was probably the only one he could take but the thought of magic still made him nervous – and that Merlin was somehow out of it since the lake business wasn’t exactly helping.   
  
He balled his fists. If this turned out to be some huge plot by… by Morgana (who might or might not be dead after all) or the Sidhe or magic itself, he would really kill them all! He couldn’t handle these games any longer; he was just so fed up with all of this. He banged his fist against the hard stone and regretted it immediately. Grimacing he took a step back, mentally scolding himself. This was one of these moments he really would have liked to have Merlin around. The one without the secrets.   
  
He was almost at the point to say goodbye to his father for this night, when he noticed it again. The movement in the corner of eye, the figure that was there but wasn’t. Arthur stared at the pillar where he was sure he had seen someone standing. The silhouette of a person dressed in a long cloak. He wasn’t sure if it had only been a trick of the light but for a moment he would have sworn the cloak was red.   
He stared and stared but there was nobody, only the grey pillar in the half-light and the long shadows the fire of the torch produced. He took a deep breath and decided it was high time to get back into bed. He was seeing things that weren’t there, or maybe they were but that would’ve been even more unsettling. So he left the crypt quickly, not looking back when his steps carried him through the tunnel and back into the more familiar halls of Camelot castle.

* * *

 

He didn’t sleep well, that’s why Merlin’s by far too grating “rise and shine” mostly made him groan and turn to the other side. He could feel his manservant wrestling with his blanket and trying to pull it out of his grasp. Arthur groaned some more but let him. It was pointless anyway, he had to get up, and at least Merlin was here and enough of his usual annoying self to dare to kick the king of Camelot out of bed. He thought almost made him grin, almost.

He heard the clatter of a plate and dragged himself upright. “Merlin, do you have to be so loud?”

“If I wasn’t loud, you would never get up, sire.”   
This time he really couldn’t suppress a smile, so he let Merlin pull his nightshirt over his head in his usual care- and graceless fashion and was almost happy when he felt a tunic thrown at him.  
“You’re a bit late today, sire. That’s why I would advise to skip the training with the knights and go straight for the petitions,” Merlin babbled while practically shoving Arthur in his chair at the table where his breakfast was waiting for him.

“What? Why would I possibly skip the training with the knights? It’s a king’s duty to be always up to date with the strength of his men.” Arthur retorted sourly while cutting into the ham on his plate. That the training with the knights was also the most enjoyable part of his day was one of these unspoken facts both of them knew about, so he was a bit disgruntled that Merlin would even suggest ditching it.

“Well, mostly because it started an hour ago.”  
  
“What?!” Arthur set down the fork and the knife with a clank, making Merlin wince, “then why didn’t you wake me, you oaf?”  
“I might be a bit late today, too,” Merlin admitted, and after a too long pause added, “sire.”

Arthur took a deep breath and turned around, mentally preparing himself to lecture Merlin on his uselessness - preferably in a rather loud manner - but the first proper look at his manservant made his anger drain immediately. Merlin had dark circles under his eyes and generally appeared rather ashen, the perfect image of a night that must have been even worse than Arthur’s. So the king restricted himself to a scowl and a grumbled: “Another bad night?”

Merlin nodded but avoided Arthur’s gaze.

“Well, that makes two of us then.” Arthur pushed the plate away, his appetite gone, and got up. He didn’t want to ask Merlin if he had had another nightmare because the proof of that was plainly written on his face but the last two times he had tried to inquire about it Merlin had put him off and Arthur was more than fed up with that. If his stupid manservant wanted to deal with his problem on his own, all the better! It didn’t bother him, not at all!

He went over to the screen and put on the rest of his cloths. Without looking back he left his chambers but heard Merlin trailing after him. Normally his manservant would prattle on about something but today the only noise was the scuffle of the latter’s feet. Arthur almost felt tempted to scold him for it but before he could really bring himself to say the words they had already arrived at the big doors of the throne room. Arthur pushed the thought aside and entered.  
  
A rather large crowd was already gathered there and the usual buzzing broke out when he crossed with long strides. Arthur knew the drill of the hearings, so there was no big surprise when the first petitioner turned out to be a farmer complaining about the lack of labour force because many young men were still absent from the villages. Arthur told him the same things he had told the people of Thennos, that the soldiers would soon return home and that he should come again if the situation didn’t improve.  
The second was a merchant complaining about another merchant, who apparently didn’t have the necessary warrant to sell his products – the same as the complaining merchant, of course. Arthur promised to send a guard to look into it. The third was a baker complaining about the council’s decision to have rye planted instead of barley. Arthur ignored him but the general complaining continued. After the eighth, who thought it necessary to point out that the ale in a tavern with the sounding name _The Singing Goatherd_ was watered down so much it didn’t deserve to be called ale anymore, Arthur really had to suppress the urge to massage his temples. Why were people complaining so much?  And the sullen voice in his head wanted to add ‘why were they complaining so much _to him_?’ But he knew the answer to that – he was the king. When he had still been a boy he would never have guessed that the cheap drink in some dive was any of his business but apparently it was. Actually becoming king had been a rather drastic wake up call, so Arthur listened, advised, promised and decreed whatever he could but at the same time had the lingering suspicion that his father might have used the whole prosecution of magic issue as a pretext to not die of boredom. Fighting sorcerers was certainly more interesting than this.  
  
Behind him Merlin shifted and Arthur immediately felt guilty. He threw a quick glance in his direction but saw the corners of Merlin’s mouth twitch. Apparently his manservant thought the situation funny. Well maybe it was… a little bit. Arthur relaxed on his throne and listened to some more complaining and general nonsense until a young woman stepped forward. She looked quite ordinary but there was a glint of something in her eyes that made Arthur wary.

“Your Majesty,” she began, trouble already palpable in the air, “I’m here today to accuse Glinda the barmaid of sorcery.”

The room fell dead silent and Arthur cursed inwardly. Sorcery – the word alone – was still such a red rag, he really hoped he was keeping up a good front. With a deliberately calm voice he answered:  
“Do you have any proof for this accusation? You know it’s a serious one.”

She nodded and started rummaging through her pockets until she drew up something that looked like a dirty poultice. Arthur frowned. “Explain.”

“I found this under my brother’s pillow. He and Glinda have been involved for a while and I always wondered what he wanted with her, she’s such an unsightly, clumsy woman and he could do so much better. So when I found this it was clear to me that she must have enchanted him.”

Arthur nodded and extended his hand. The girl stepped up to him, about to place the poultice in his opened palm when Arthur casually added: “I’ll have an expert look into it.”  
And then it happened; she hesitated. It was only the blink of an eye but she had hesitated before she had let go the poultice and let it slip into his hand.  
“Aren’t you going to arrest her?” she asked instead, sounding quite a bit more insecure now.

“We are, once your accusation proves correct.”  
  
A muffled whisper went through the crowd. Apparently they were as surprised as the girl, who had turned a bit white around the edges. Arthur knew that his father would immediately have sent a bunch of guards to fetch the alleged sorceress, but this stank by far too much of slander. So he rather observed as the girl shrank more and more into herself.   
“But what if she enchants someone else in the meantime?” she tried to argue weakly.

“You hinted that she has a romantic interest in your brother, so I dare to doubt that this interest will shift to somebody else within the next few hours.”   
He held the poultice out to Merlin, who took it from him wordlessly. “Take it to our… expert,” Arthur ordered in a low voice while his and Merlin’s gaze met for a moment. He saw warmth there and a silent gratitude before the sorcerer averted his eyes and broke the contact.

Merlin hurried off and Arthur focused on the young woman again.  
“What’s your name, girl?”

“Moira, Your Majesty.”

“Well, Moira,” Arthur leant forward, giving her his best fake smile, “until the situation is cleared up you are to stay here. For your own safety, to protect you from potential retaliatory acts the sorceress might take against you.”

He saw the girl flinch but waved the guards over nonetheless. “Take her to the west tower.”  
The west tower was what the knights playfully called ‘the dungeon for ladies’. It had relatively high ceilings, windows and even some sparse furniture. In general, it didn’t immediately evoke the idea of a prison, and when its inmates weren’t the brightest they never actually noticed it was. So Arthur didn’t feel particularly bad for locking someone up there. His father had had people sent to the dungeons for less. _He_ had had people sent to the dungeon for less.

So he took a deep breath and observed with a certain smugness that the next person to bring forward a petition looked far more reluctant and humble.

“Sire,” the man began slowly. He was middle-aged but had barely any hair left on his head. His look was generally more one of poverty and he nervously shifted from one foot to the other while he held a little brown cap in his hands. Arthur immediately felt bad for frightening the people and sighed inwardly. He gestured for the man to continue, who apparently really felt encouraged enough to take a step closer to the throne.

“Sire”, he began again, “I’m here on behalf of my son. He’s a stable boy, you might even have met him, his name’s Owen.” Arthur listened attentively. He didn’t remember any stable boy with that name but he, admittedly, seldom bothered to ask.  
“He’s been missing since yesterday and when I tried to ask the guards for their help, they fended me off saying I needed to petition to the king first. So here I am.” The man made a helpless gesture but Arthur nodded thoughtfully. It wasn’t really that surprising for a young lad to be absent for a few days without telling his parents. Arthur had done so a few times himself – which might have resulted in search parties and shouting matches with his father, but he had always been alright – so it was  probably nothing but he still felt he needed to give the man the chance to speak.

“When was the last time you saw him?” he asked.

“During the parting ceremony for the fallen knights. We attended like good citizens, the whole family was there. But Owen went to the tavern afterwards, said he wanted to wash down the gloom with some ale. And that’s the last we saw of him, never came home afterwards.” The man was obviously fighting back tears, his shoulders shaking while his gaze was stoically fixed on the floor.  
“He’s a good boy, sire. Responsible. Our first born. He knows we worry when he doesn’t come home.”

Arthur regarded the man for a moment. “Very well,” he muttered more to himself, before searching the gaze of his head of guard. They exchanged a barely visible nod. Sir Leon immediately stepped forward and bowed when Arthur addressed him directly: “Choose two or three men you can spare to help this good citizen with the search for his son.”  
The man started to babble surprised yet overjoyed thank yous while Arthur and Leon exchanged another meaningful look that implied as much as _keep me updated_. Leon only nodded before stalking off with the still bowing and thanking man in tow. Arthur felt like this had been the first really important decision he made today.

“This is the last petition,” he announced in a voice he hoped sounded grave. He really had enough for the next month or so. He should have stopped after the watered down ale.

An old woman came forward and Arthur could feel his face turn into a grimace when he recognized her. Moll, Camelot’s infamous madwoman. That was really what he needed to end this already very headache-inducing round of petitions. He pinched the bridge of his nose and the collective groan from the crowd that followed her sluggish steps seemed to indicate that he wasn’t the only one who thought this was a waste of time. Someone even had the guts to yell: “Go home, Moll!” but Arthur demanded silence with a simple flick of his wrist.   
  
“Arthur,” she began and he raised an eyebrow in mild indignation. Since Moll had amused (and annoyed) Camelot and her people with nonsense stories of pixies stealing her smallclothes and goblins living in the library for years now, people generally knew it was pointless to take offence with her. At least she knew he wasn’t his father. That could be considered a plus point for her mental state. So Arthur signalled for her to continue, wondering a bit at himself why he put up with this.  
  
“There are ghosts roaming the citadel,” she said in an eerily cheerful voice, her wild, white hair sticking in every direction while her gaze was focused on a spot somewhere to the left of him. She was staring at it so intently that Arthur was actually tempted to turn and check if something was there. Only he knew there wasn’t, so he opted instead to grin and bear it. “Well, as long as they don’t do anything, we don’t mind ghosts.”

She started giggling, still staring at the spot. “That’s good. Because they’re not going away. They’re here to stay.” She swayed a little. The guards were already approaching, about to take the madwoman away but Arthur put a temporary stop to it with his raised hand.

“Is there something else you wish to say?”   
For a moment she kept silent, just staring instead. Then her head turned, very slowly she focused on Arthur, her watery eyes so pale that he could feel a shiver running down his back.

“The lady Morgana says she’s sorry.”  
  
The room was so silent one would probably have been able to hear a needle drop. Arthur stared at her, utterly speechless before the realisation of what she had just said got the better of him and he rose in a shout: “Out with her! Take her and her madness away before it infects somebody else!”   
The guards immediately complied and grabbed to woman’s arms, dragging her away. The crowd quickly shuffled out too because it was never good to get too close to an enraged Pendragon.

* * *

 

“I heard you had a run-in with Moll,” Merlin said as casually as possible while putting the plate in front of Arthur. The king grunted, not bothering to look up from the papers he was going through.

“I didn’t even know she was still around. It’s been years since she last petitioned. If I remember correctly she wanted Uther to change the colour of the banners from red to green because red attracted Weevils.”

Arthur scowled at him but Merlin just grinned and nodded towards the plate. “Eat, it gets cold.”  
“You don’t tell me what to do. I’m the king, Merlin.” He put the papers away though.  
“If you need to stress time and time again that you are, you can’t be very good at it.” Merlin winked and went on bustling about the room. Arthur threw a napkin at him.

“Have you gone soft, sire? You used to beat me with spoons,” Merlin teased, prancing out of the line of fire.

“Merlin.”

“Shut up?”

Arthur held up his fork threateningly but there was mirth playing in his eyes. Merlin smirked and picked up the napkin. So when Arthur started picking at his lunch there was an easy peace between them.   
“Do you think Moll’s a sorceress?” he asked after shoving the first slice of meat in.  
Merlin shook his head. “Nah, she’s just an old lunatic. Not every crazy person is a sorcerer,” and after he had walked back over to Arthur he added, “not every sorcerer is crazy.” He put the napkin back on the table.

Arthur huffed. “You try to make me believe that.”  
Merlin raised an eyebrow and demonstratively stole a grape from Arthur’s plate.  
The king sent him a disapproving glare but then set the cutlery down, a more earnest stance in his bearing now. “What about Morgana? Could it be possible that she’s… still here somehow?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin admitted, his voice not giving away much emotion though. “I killed her and burned her body afterwards, so she’s dead for sure. But her spirit is another issue.” [1]  
  
“So she might be haunting us?” Arthur sounded almost a bit alarmed now, his shoulders going tense. Merlin shrugged and tried to lean casually against the table. “I doubt it. Our previous experience with ghosts showed that they need to be called or released in some way, and as far as I know neither of us did that.”

“But…”  
Merlin placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “I’m actually pretty sure Morgana’s gone for good and Moll’s just a crazy old hag. You know once – when I was pretty new in Camelot – she even told me that the blue of my skin brought out my golden eyes magnificently. So do you really want to base your opinion on that?” He threw Arthur a lopsided grin, who still looked a bit edgy but gradually relaxed back into his chair. He nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just… with all the magic recently I was…”

Merlin nodded in return. “I know. I’m sorry for making things difficult.” His gaze drifted to the window, grin gone and gaze much more thoughtful now. Arthur nudged him.  
“Don’t go all moody on me again. I’ve had enough of your girly antics this morning.” He flipped another grape into the air, relying on Merlin to catch it.  
  
“You seemed livelier until now.”  
  
Merlin shrugged and put the grape into his mouth. “Actually, I had a pretty good time after you sent me away. I could go to the tavern.” Arthur tried to kick his shin but Merlin held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “Glinda’s tavern, you ass!”  
  
He pulled out the chair next to Arthur and brought out the poultice again before sitting down.  
“This,” he gestured to the dirty cloth, “consists of coriander, parsley, dandelion leaves, some ground pepper corns and hazelnuts. Oh, and not to forget the mud and the horse dung.”  
The expectant look on Merlin’s face was met by one of incomprehension on Arthur’s.  
Merlin rolled his eyes. “That’s kitchen ingredients and what you find on every meadow. That has nothing to do with magic, dollophead. Even you should know that.”  
Arthur’s indignant huff couldn’t really hide the slight blush covering his cheeks. “That’s not my division,” he retorted grumpily.

“Anyway,” Merlin continued, “I went down to the _Faux Hare_ where Glinda works to get a first-hand impression of her, and she…. well, let’s say the description wasn’t entirely accurate.”  
Arthur raised a questioning eyebrow at that.

“She’s certainly not of the petite kind. But she has the curves in all the right places to make the patrons take to her well enough.” Merlin painted an exaggerated hourglass shape into the air.  
“She also seemed good-natured and friendly. A bit loud and clumsy too, but it all has a rather pleasant ring to it. So personally, I’d lean towards saying that this woman is in no need of magically enhancing her charms. Or at least not for the patrons of the Hare.”

Arthur rubbed his chin and nodded. “Yes, that’s what I thought. The accusations sounded a bit too convenient to be true. But that still doesn’t explain why Moira would commit perjury. It’s a serious crime.”  
Merlin shrugged, his fingers absent-mindedly trailing the structure lines of the table’s surface. “I overheard Glinda saying that she and Moira’s brother want to get married in a month’s time. So maybe Moira disapproves and saw no other way than that to thwart the wedding.”

“If he wasn’t her brother, I’d say this sounds like the corny love-triangle story told by a provincial bard.” Arthur’s patronizing laughter fell short, when he noticed Merlin’s still rather serious expression. “Maybe it is,” he said in a soft voice.

“But they’re siblings!”

Merlin shrugged again, a bit amused over Arthur’s shocked expression. “I have no proof of that. I only know that the poultice was a fake and that the barmaid is far from as uncomely as told.”  
And after a pause he added, “I think we need to talk to Moira again. It’s good you made sure she’s available but don’t you think the west tower is a bit extreme?”

Now it was Arthur’s turn to shrug. “She falsely accused another woman of sorcery, knowing it might result in the latter’s execution. That’s as good as manslaughter.”  
“Camelot hasn’t executed any sorcerers over petty crimes like this in years.” Merlin retorted however avoiding to look directly at Arthur.  
  
“Yes. I guess that’s thanks to you.”  
 “I have an eye on things.” Arthur nodded and Merlin’s fingers were still quite busy examining the wood underneath them. After a moment of silence Arthur broke the arising tension though by saying: “I mostly incarcerated her because the lying annoyed me.” That already succeeded in making Merlin wince but Arthur continued, “I’m really fed up with constantly being lied to. Do you people really think that I’m that daft?” and a bit softer he added, “That untrustworthy?”

“Arthur, I…”  
But Arthur didn’t let him finish, instead he grabbed Merlin’s wrist over the table and pinned it in place. ”The lying has to stop, Merlin. Understood? Because otherwise, I swear, I’ll have you flogged. Publically! And I’ll do it myself!”  
  
Merlin stared, rendered speechless for a moment. The place where Arthur held on to his arm felt extremely warm right now and the pressure of the blood pumping through his veins was almost palpable. Merlin swallowed and forced a cheeky grin on his face when he retorted, “you know, Arthur, if you wanted me topless at your mercy you only needed to say so.”

Arthur let go of him immediately and rolled his eyes, so Merlin hurried to add: “I promise! I won’t lie anymore; I’ll tell you everything you ask to know.”

“Everything I ask to know? What about the things I don’t ask about?”  
Merlin swallowed. This new Arthur was really much more perceptive.  
“Some things are too much, even for me.”

Arthur huffed but nodded eventually. “Then I guess I have to ask the right questions, don’t I? You never had the habit of making things easy for me.”  
It wasn’t what Merlin had expected but the self-deprecatorygrin on Arthur’s face said everything.  
“You would get bored if it was easy.”

The laughter that followed was surprisingly honest and made Merlin feel a bit lighter again.

“So let’s start with a simple question then. You said the poultice is a fake but it would actually be possible to make someone fall in love this way, wouldn’t it?”

That was another question Merlin hadn’t seen coming but apparently Arthur’s interest in magic was another thing he had to get used to. So it took him a moment to answer with a tentative “I guess.”

“You guess? If you only guess than what is your judgement based upon?”  
“Hey! I never actually needed to make a love poultice. But I _guess_ it’s possible.”  
“If you never made one then how do you know that one,” Arthur pointed to the poor, dirty thing,” is a fake?”

Merlin felt his jaw drop in indignation. That Arthur questioned his skills was nothing new, but that he would assume…  
“Well, first of all, I would never make someone fall in love with me using magic. That’s the lowest and I’m really not in need of such,” he gestured, “tricks. I’m much more popular with the ladies than you think.” He nodded to hide his pout.  
  
“Oh, really? When was the last time you had a lady spend the night? Have you actually ever had a wo-“  
“Now that’s really none of your business!” Merlin interrupted, his ears starting to feel hot.  
The dirty smirk on Arthur’s face was indicator enough to know that he had tasted blood and wouldn’t let him of the hook so easily. “So the rumours are true that all the high priests and priestesses of the Old Religion are virgins because it heightens their powers?”

“What?! NO! That’s….” Merlin got up abruptly, his face red up to under the hair line, and hitting the chair leg in the process. “I’m not a high priest! And I’m not a virgin! Really, Arthur, what are you thinking?!”

Mostly Arthur seemed to be thinking that Merlin’ bashfulness was highly amusing if his smug expression and casually propped up arm was anything to go by. His eyes roamed up and down Merlin’s body as if assessing all of his existing and non-existing sexual encounters, ending in a low chuckle.  
  
“Oh, shut up,” Merlin turned away, feeling by far too exposed.

“Well, maybe Gwaine was right,” Arthur said while getting up too, still smirking like an idiot of course, “and we should get you a bit more action.”

“I don’t need more action!” He steered towards the door. “and even if, then it would be nothing of  your concern!”

* * *

 

Merlin still felt agitated, even though Arthur was back to playing all serious King of Camelot with his councillors. They discussed matters of state – nothing all that interesting, mostly taxation issues Merlin would have blended out if only His royal Pratness hadn’t considered it necessary to place a jibe every now and then.

“The nobles of Western Essetir still refuse to pay the annual tax rate, claiming they never had to under Cenred.”   
“So they’re practically tax _virgins_?” Arthur positively drawled the word and Merlin wanted to kill him. He approached the table with an unreadable expression, lifting the carafe as if he was about the refill Arthur’s goblet. Unfortunately, he was such a clumsy servant that the drink ended up all over the king’s sleeve.   
“So sorry, sire,” he babbled in mock submission and bodily shoved Arthur out of the way. “Please let me clean that up, sire.”  
Arthur scowled at him but moved to the side. Maybe the minimally upturned corner of his mouth should have been a warning to Merlin.  
“I really hope that those inapt hands of yours are more skilled in other areas because otherwise I’d have to say that I’m very pessimistic about your chances of ever finding a wife.”  
The councillors laughed at his expanse and Merlin pursed his mouth while he wiped the table clean. He shot Arthur a death glare when no one was looking, only to receive a very smug grin in return.

“You know me, sire. I might not be blessed with skill or intellect but the gods always give you something.”  
“Well, it’s certainly not the looks either.” Again the councillors laughed with their king while Arthur shoved him away from the tables’ head end.  
  
Merlin retreated into the background, shooting little invisible daggers at Arthur’s back.   
And while he stood there glaring, a thought occurred to him. Arthur knew…. So he could actually shoot real invisible daggers at the king. Merlin felt a very pleased smile spread over his face.  
He regarded Arthur’s back and how he moved from one foot to the other, indicating things on the papers in front of him. Merlin concentrated and suddenly the king tensed. He turned around and looked at Merlin, a frown on his face. Merlin smiled innocently.  
Arthur turned back to the councillors, trying to pick up where he had left off. Merlin let him speak a few sentences before he focused on that spot above Arthur’s right hip and sent a pinching notion in his direction. This time the king actually yelped and Merlin felt vindicated.  
  
“Merlin. Come here, I think you missed a spot,” Arthur sounded very pressed.

“Oh really, sire?” He scurried over obediently; fully aware that Arthur would probably find a way to punish him in equal measure, but right now the satisfaction prevailed. He smiled his most guileless smile when he came to stand next to Arthur. However, the king grabbed his neck rather brutally and pushed his head down, so his nose hovered a few centimetres above the table’s surface. “There! Do you see it?”  
Merlin breathed hard. He could feel the warmth of Arthur’s hand on his skin. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, sire.” Arthur squeezed and Merlin tensed under his grip.  
“There. Right in front of you! Please don’t tell me that next to stupid and clumsy you’re also blind!”  
“My eyesight is in perfect condition.” Merlin pressed out. He felt really quite hot now, and to make matters worse, Arthur had apparently decided to use his other hand to pinch exactly the same spot above his hip Merlin had targeted before. He had to suppress a whimper.   
  
“I see what you mean, sire. I’ll take care of it immediately.” Merlin made a motion to get up and Arthur let him. The gleam in the king’s eyes made it obvious that he considered himself victor of this game. For now Merlin would let him be in this belief before they entered round two, so he wiped down the table again and retreated like a good servant.

Merlin held back after that and let the councillors talk their boring business. Arthur wouldn’t get away. He had to seriously suppress a yawn though when councillor Mangold stepped forward to announce he had a proclamation to make.   
Mangold was the oldest of the councillors – even older than Gaius – and by far the most boring. So when he got up, fingers treading through his thin but endlessly long white beard, Merlin mentally prepared himself for the fight to keep his eyes open.  
“It has been brought to my attention, by his brother, that young bard Taliesin has been absent from court…”

_Oh?_ That certainly wasn’t what Merlin had expected.   
  
“As you all know I’m a great admirer of the arts, so the sudden disappearance of such a talented young man seemed noteworthy and it would be a true loss for the court life not to….” Arthur held up his hand, stopping Mangold in his speech.   
“Are you telling me another person has gone missing?”  
The councillor seemed confused, though more about the fact that his words could be considered misleading. “Well yes, sire. As I said, his younger brother has brought it to my attention that he didn’t return from his vespertine ballad round through Camelot’s inns and taverns.”  
Arthur exchanged a quick glance with Merlin. Taliesin’s absence was disconcerting indeed.

“So that makes two missing people in two days,” Arthur mumbled more to himself, ignoring Mangold’s ongoing praise of Taliesin.  
 _Actually three_ , Merlin supplied mentally. Brianna might not have disappeared in Camelot but she had disappeared nonetheless.

“One every night since…”   
  
Arthur fixed him with an intense stare and Merlin felt a shiver running down his back. It was crystal-clear what Arthur was thinking. Without turning back to the councillors he dismissed them. They whispered amongst themselves as the shuffled out of the room but Arthur ignored them, his gaze still focused on Merlin, all business now.   
  
“What’s going on?” he asked when finally the last of them was gone. Merlin, however, could only shake his head. “I don’t know but it seems too regular to be a coincidence.” He admitted, running an unsteady hand over his upper arm.  
  
“It most certainly is too regular.” Arthur sighed deeply and started to pace. “It’s as if something followed us here…from that lake.” He threw Merlin a dirty look, who had to pull himself together not to flinch under it.  
“That’s a bit far-fetched, don’t you think?” he retorted weakly. “It doesn’t necessarily need to have anything to do with… the lake.” Even in his own ears that sounded lame. Arthur seemed to think so too because he just continued to walk back and forth, sporadically glaring at the papers on the table.  
Merlin felt himself swallow. He approached Arthur tentatively and very carefully touched a hand to his shoulder. “It could be anything,” he said, not really believing either.   
Arthur only raised an eyebrow and shook his head wordlessly. Something akin to pain was reflected in his eyes.

“When’s that ever the case?”   
  
He slipped out of Merlin’s grasp and unrolled a map showing Camelot and the surrounding areas. Merlin observed quietly as Arthur set three markers on top of the map, two directly within the capital, on more to the northwest. Merlin understood.

“So what do you want to do then?”

Arthur didn’t look up, instead his gaze flickered between the two locations, assessing them.   
“Until now, we only know of one thing these three people have in common.”

“They were all unfortunate enough to meet us?” Merlin deadpanned, however wearing a very cautious expression. Arthur rolled his eyes. “Apart from that, idiot!”   
But Merlin could only shrug and shook his head in confusion, not getting what the king was aiming at.  
“They all disappeared from taverns, dimwit! So that’s where we are going to start.”   
  
“So you want to go to the tavern with me?”  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] We never got to see what Merlin did to Morgana’s body after he killed her, so I made that up because it seemed a bit too undignified – even if Morgana was his nemesis – for Merlin to just leave her for the animals.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lateness of this update. With Christmas around the corner and a lot of other things to do everything took a bit longer.

He hadn’t dressed up as a girl as Arthur had suggested. Instead he rubbed the stubble on his chin with a little grin and continued his stroll down the alley to _The Rising Sun_. Merlin was really quite proud of himself since even he would have failed to recognize the ginger man that stared back at him in the blurry reflection of the windows he passed. It certainly had some advantages that Arthur knew of his secret now.

He entered the Sun with a smirk on his face and felt truly vindicated when the only thing he got from the patrons, most of which actually knew Merlin, were some suspicious looks. He spotted Arthur on the other side of the taproom, wearing a hood so low into his face it made him stand out all the more. Inconspicuousness probably went against his royal blood.   
Merlin couldn’t suppress a grin when he approached, inwardly preparing for Arthur’s confusion over who he might be. He even toyed with the thought of not revealing himself immediately and greeting Arthur instead with some sultry _hello stranger_ line that would have made Gwaine proud.

Arthur spoilt his fun though in getting up instantly when saw Merlin.  
“Well well, someone has put quite some effort into this.” He gave Merlin a once-over but then nodded in agreement.  
  
“How do you even know it’s me?” Merlin asked, unable to hide his astonishment.  
“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. I would recognize your eyes anywhere.” After a pause he added, “I even recognized you when you were like a hundred years old, only you denied it.”

Merlin gave a _fair enough_ nod then took a step closer to Arthur.  
“So what’s the plan? Do we just wait here until something happens or do we patrol the back allies?” he asked in a lowered voice.

“Actually, we do both.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“We wait here until someone that fits the profile leaves, then we follow them and see what happens.”

Merlin’s eyebrows wouldn’t lower. “There is a profile?”

“Of course there is,” something in Arthur’s expression told him that now would normally be one of these moments he was thwacked over the head but apparently his altered appearance seemed intimidating enough to forego the habit. “Haven’t you noticed? All people abducted, Brianna included, were young adults, more or less good-looking and firstborn.”

“Firstborn?”

“Well, in Brianna’s case I’m guessing but the missing stable hand and Taliesin certainly are.”  
Merlin rubbed his chin – the stubble was a bit obstructive now, he had to admit – but Arthur had a point. Sometimes he forgot the man wasn’t in all cases as blind as in his own.

“It could be a coincidence,” he argued even though he had mentally already accepted the point.  
“Nah, it’s not. Wasn’t there something about fairies and firstborns?” Arthur grinned a cheeky grin, obviously very sure of himself and his deduction, so Merlin could only frown.  
“Didn’t we agree the connection with the Sidhe was farfe…”

Arthur abruptly signalled to be silent, his gaze glued to a spot somewhere behind them. Merlin slowly turned around and spotted Jonas. The young man was about to leave the tavern, saying his goodbyes to his friends and waving at the owner behind the counter.  
“Isn’t he a bit too old?” Merlin whispered. Arthur only shrugged and started moving as soon as Jonas had reached the door. “It’s worth a shot.”  
  
Jonas was the new blacksmith that had taken over the forge of Gwen’s father, once she had finally brought herself to sell it. So the way to Jonas’s home was no big mystery and Arthur and Merlin were able to keep a decent amount of distance between themselves and their target. Still, Arthur insisted that they had to stay within sight.  
It was probably their lack of talk and the by far too purposeful way of walking that made Jonas turn around and throw them a distrustful look.  Merlin elbowed Arthur. “Great, now he thinks we want to rob him.” Jonas hastened his steps.  
“It’s not my fault you look so suspicious,” Arthur retorted through gritted teeth.  
“Me? Who wears the hood that screams shady business? Certainly not me.”  
“Well, you are ginger!” he gestured towards Merlin’s face as if that explained everything but mostly resulted in making the latter gape. “What’s wrong with being ginger? It’s a very nice hair colour, actually, and…”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur interrupted, “we’re losing him.”  
“We know where he lives!” Merlin made an exasperated gesture into the direction Jonas had disappeared.   
  
The bickering continued but they arrived at the corner just in time to see the young blacksmith enter his house and closing the door right behind him.   
“Well, that was fruitful,” Merlin tried not to sound too narky but failed.  
“It’s never the first one you try,” Arthur retorted but couldn’t fully hide his resentment either.

“And now? What do we do? Go back to the Sun and wait for another one fitting the profile?” Merlin especially stressed the word _profile_ but Arthur ignored him and ran a hand through his fringe under the hood. Merlin knew it was a sign of him being tense since he had seen it often enough on the other man. That’s why he took a deep breath and said in a much more civil tone: “Maybe it would be better if we waited outside. People already saw us in there, it would be weird to go back now.”

Arthur nodded and began to trudge back into the tavern’s direction. As his luck went, Merlin came to regret his proposal before they even arrived there. Big raindrops began to fall from the night sky and had him soaked within minutes. Merlin cursed inwardly and suddenly envied Arthur for his coat – not that he would ever have admitted that. The smug smile on the king’s face made it clear enough though that he knew exactly what his manservant was thinking right now. “Not so shady business anymore, what?”  
  
Merlin answered with a sardonic expression and crossed his arms.  
“Still shady and utterly over the top. If I may say so.”  
  
“You may not,” countered a grinning Arthur while the rain pattered on his big hood, and Merlin couldn’t help but grin along. Despite the ridiculousness of the whole situation it felt kind of nice to do this together. He had been afraid that the rift between them would be deeper but as things were now it actually felt as if they would be able to manage. There were, of course, still a myriad of secrets he hadn’t dared to tell Arthur about yet but there was this new knowledge that it might be possible. And that was exciting and horrifying at the same time.

“You know,” Merlin said while casually rubbing his cold upper arms, “I could have done the same for you.” Arthur shot him a questing look.  
  
“Enchant you, change your appearance so you wouldn’t need to hide your face,” Merlin clarified.  
  
The answer took a breath too long. “So both of us freeze to death out here? I don’t think so.”  
Arthur snickered but Merlin could see right through him. He lowered his gaze and felt a rivulet of water running down his neck and right into his collar. He shivered and mentally scolded himself for being foolish.

“Maybe we should go in. Standing in front of an inn while the rain is coming down in sheets sounds much more suspicious in my ears than going in for shelter,” Arthur said. Merlin nodded in silent agreement, feeling the clamminess of his skin very prominently at that very moment.  
  
They stumbled in and for once didn’t elicit any kind of special attention. Well, even Arthur was allowed to be right every once in a while. Merlin wiped the wet hair out of his forehead, his clothes already sticking to his body in the tavern’s hot and humid air. Grumpily he jogged to the counter, ordering ale for himself and purposefully ignoring Arthur, who had followed him with a frown on his face.  
“We’re here to investigate, not to get drunk,” Arthur muttered under his breath.  
“I’m allowed to have one drink, that won’t get me inebriated.”  
Arthur’s frown didn’t vanish. “Are you sure about that?”  
Merlin ignored him and took the tankard, aiming for the dark corner where mister master-of-blending-in had sat before. He heard Arthur sigh behind him.

“Are you angry because I refused your offer?” Arthur asked when they were seated again, his gaze glued to Merlin, who, for his part, stared at the liquor right in front of him.  
“I’m not drinking because I’m angry,” Merlin retorted but had to admit that he sounded irritable even in his own ears. “I’m drinking because that’s what you do in a place like the Sun.” He demonstratively lifted the tankard to his lips, downing almost half of its contents.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  
“Well,” he put the beaker down with a clank. The traitorous words _I don’t care what you think_ were lurking on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to be spoken, but he swallowed them down and instead pressed an “I’m cold, I need to get warmed up” out with a forced grin.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Now that made you sound like Gwaine.”

Merlin hesitated before he took another gulp. “I miss Gwaine,” he admitted, his anger evaporated as quickly as it had come. Arthur gave a little nod, “I miss him too.”  
  
Merlin barely registered when Arthur raised a hand to order another round of drinks, this time for both of them.  
“I thought you didn’t condone drinking while on a mission?” he asked with now much more honest teasing in his voice.   
“I don’t. But this is not an official mission and unlike someone else here,” he shot Merlin a pointed look, “I’m actually able to hold my liquor.” Merlin huffed but felt himself relax a bit more on his bench. He was warmer now, inside and out. His head was even a bit fuzzy but there was no need to say that out loud.

He scanned the room. There were more people here now than during their first stake-out, but he blamed that on the weather. It also was so stuffy that Merlin could have been fooled into believing the room had fogged up.   
“What do you think of that one?” he nodded into the direction of a lad, drunkenly leaning on the counter in a futile attempt to woe one of the serving wenches.  
Arthur seemed to give it a thought but then shook his head. “Not a firstborn.”

“How do you know?”  
  
Arthur leaned in conspiratorially as if he was about to reveal a big secret to him and bid Merlin to come closer. A little shiver spread through him from the patch of skin where their arms touched and Merlin decided that now was either the moment to stop drinking or to down another tankard. He opted for the latter.  
“It’s the girl’s reaction,” Arthur explained in a very matter of fact voice, while his face was only centimetres away from Merlin’s. “If he was a firstborn she might not be so averse to his advances.”

It took him a moment to register what Arthur had said but then Merlin rolled his eyes and leaned back once more. “Money’s not the only thing girls care for,” he reprimanded and crossed his arms in front of his chest.  
“Certainly not all girls. But if you are a serving wench in _The Rising Sun_ and make most of your money by having a good cleavage and smiling at drunk idiots, you don’t go for the second born.”

Merlin pursed his lips in dislike but had to admit that Arthur might have a point there. So he gave a curt nod and grabbed for the tankard once more. This was going to be a long night.

“So which one then?”

Arthur let his gaze wander over the crowd, assessing them but eventually shook his head.  
“None,” he said. “There’s none that fits the profile. They’re all either too old or too unsightly, so we don’t need to wonder whether they are firstborns or not.”

Merlin huffed and lifted the drink in his hand. “Then all we can do is wait.”  
He heard the slight slur in his own voice but decided to ignore it. He wasn’t drunk. He didn’t get drunk that easily. He was the mightiest sorcerer to ever walk the earth. A bit of ale couldn’t defeat him. Arthur threw him a look that was something between amused and wary and lifted his own tankard to his lips.

Merlin wasn’t really sure how much time had passed but at some point everything had become a bit hazy. He knew Arthur had warned him not to drink any more but Arthur could go and get stuffed!  
His head was, quite comfortably, bedded on his arms on the table and he babbled in the king’s direction about how unfair it was that Arthur always treated him like an idiot and how hurtful his demeanour was, and anyway, Arthur was a prat!  
He wasn’t really sure if said prat paid any attention because Merlin had to admit that some things he slurred were not entirely clear to him either, but when he felt a warm hand patting the back of his head the world seemed a bit better again. In addition, it also made him realise that he must have changed his appearance back, even though he couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when that had happened, but he didn’t really care anyway. So he just nuzzled his face into the crook of his arm, feeling warm and mumbled, “Arthur, can we go home now?”

The hand combed through the short hair of his neck, pulling it a bit and giving Merlin goose bumps.  
“Soon,” he heard Arthur say. “I just want to check out that last guy over there.”  
Merlin forced himself to look up but could barely recognize anything. He squinted his eyes and saw the blurry image of an unknown young man with curly, ash blond hair, who was about to leave the inn.  
“Is he a firstborn?” Merlin managed to ask.   
“I don’t know. But as you wanted to leave anyway, we’re going to follow him.”  
Merlin groaned in response but Arthur ignored him and pulled him upright instead. The feeling of nausea followed right after. He groaned some more, making sure it was bordering on a whimper, but Arthur was obviously devoid of any kind of mercy when he dragged him to the exit.   
  
Outside it was still raining and Merlin felt even less like stalking an ominous youngster. He wanted to tell Arthur so but was ignored once more when the latter instead slung Merlin’s arm over his shoulder and half covered him with his big coat. All of a sudden, Merlin wasn’t really that sure anymore what he had been about to say. He felt Arthur’s warm body pressed to his own and let himself be dragged down the alley, not really registering where they were going. If Arthur really wanted to chase that guy he would have to do so without Merlin’s input – not that he ever put much weight on that anyway. He snorted then giggled to himself. He liked that Arthur was carrying him.  
“You know the last time it was the other way round,” he mumbled.

Arthur gave a slightly distracted “Huh?”, his attention obviously focused on their surroundings.          

“The last time I was carrying you like this,” Merlin clarified.  
  
“Yes, but I was dying while you merely had one too many.”   
That seemed to amuse Merlin even more. His giggling transformed into a fully grown laughing fit, including the uncoordinated stumbling, hiccupping and even some tears escaping the corner of his eyes. Arthur tried to shush him but that only made Merlin guffaw more.   
“Shut up, you idiot! Like this everybody will think we’re up to something.”

“Or they’ll think we’re drunk!” Merlin finally managed to press out between two bouts of laughter.  
Arthur rolled his eyes – well, Merlin thought he did, because right now the king held himself in his typical _you poor, dim-witted peasant_ posture that was especially reserved for him. It made Merlin explode again, while Arthur lowered him to sit on the threshold of someone’s door.  
“Pull yourself together,” Arthur sounded stern, he was definitively using his kingly voice now, “you don’t want to rouse half of Camelot.”   
  
That seemed to do the trick because Merlin finally started to calm down. He still let loose the occasional chortle but when his clumsy hands grabbed for Arthur’s he seemed a bit more sober again. “I’m glad you’re alive,” he mumbled and had an almost dreamy expression on his face when he looked up at the other man. “Aren’t you glad too?”  
  
Arthur raised his free hand to comb it through Merlin’s wet hair, who snuggled into the touch affectionately. “I am. I’m more grateful than I can put in words.” He gave a little smile but there was a bitter edge to it so that even Merlin in is drunk state could feel some of his euphoria dwindle. Arthur’s hand wandered lower and settled in Merlin’s neck, massaging the skin there gently.   
“I’m grateful, Merlin,” he murmured, “but I don’t like what’s going on right now.”   
  
Suddenly Merlin felt the cold of the rainy night much more prominently again. It contrasted with the warmth of Arthur’s skin and Merlin was all too clearly reminded of the familiarity of the situation.   
“Arthur,” he breathed. But Arthur’s grip in his neck tightened, only slightly but enough to indicate that he wasn’t done yet. He lowered himself to his knees so that he was at eye level with Merlin.   
“I don’t like what going on right now because you are behaving like some irresponsible twat.”   
  
Merlin winced.   
   
“I really expect you to pull yourself together, because we’re having a mission here!” After a pause and a glare, he added, “Or are you doing this on purpose?”  
  
Merlin stared, his heart beat too loud in his own ears. “I don’t….” he began, “why would I….”   
Arthur was still holding him, which didn’t exactly further the case of coming up with a satisfying answer. But this was important, for both of them, so he continued struggling for words, “I don’t … I’m not doing this on purpose… I’m just drunk…  and if I was a knight you wouldn’t make such a big deal out of it.” He felt rather sick by now.

Arthur huffed and let go of him. “If you were a knight I would strip you of all your titles and throw you into the dungeons for such a stunt.”  
Merlin nodded. Yeah, that was probably true. He let his head fall forward because it had become really hard to focus. “I’m sorry, “he mumbled then proceeded to throw up over Arthur’s shoes.

Arthur yelped and recoiled immediately while Merlin slumped against the doorframe. He could barely keep his eyes open. “I really think we should go home now. The guy’s gone anyway.”  
He must have spaced out for a second after that because the next thing he registered was Arthur dragging him to his feet, mumbling about _the worst manservant ever_. Merlin would have smiled hadn’t he felt so utterly miserable.

They followed the dark streets, many of which had turned into literal mud slides, and staggered into the direction of the Upper Town. Merlin wasn’t really in any condition to pay much attention to where he stepped, so Arthur had to save his stuck boots more than once. And while it would normally have amused him to no end to see the king kneel down and fix Merlin’s shoe over his heel, it only evoked a sluggish sigh now. He just wanted to go home and sleep.   
So it came as an actual surprise that he noticed the noise that made Arthur’s head turn only an instant later. The king rose to his feet and scanned their surroundings. Merlin recognized the warrior stance immediately, which made him – despite his difficulties in concentrating – much more alert too. Were they being followed? He shot Arthur a questioning look but was cut off with a silencing gesture before he could even open his mouth. Arthur was listening into the night.

The rain’s cacophony made it hard to tell which sounds were brought forth by potential enemies and which were just the storm. So after a few tense moments Merlin made a silent gesture to continue their journey homewards. He wasn’t really in the mood to deal with back alley robbers right now and honestly a bit afraid that a confrontation wouldn’t end well – for them.   
However, when he turned around there suddenly stood someone in the middle of the street. Merlin flinched violently and immediately raised his hand. Arthur had spotted the stranger too because he took a step closer to Merlin.  
  
“Who goes there?” he asked. “Make yourself known!”

The figure didn’t move nor answer though. It just stood there in the rain, draped in a long, hooded cloak, whose colour was hard to make out in the dark. If Merlin squinted there might have been a shimmer of red to it but it was really impossible to tell.  
  
Arthur took a step forward, revealing the pommel of his sword in the process. “Speak now or let us pass!”   
The figure, of course, didn’t react. So when Arthur drew his sword, about to approach, Merlin grabbed for his sleeve. He silently shook his head and they exchanged a warning look. But when they turned towards the stranger again he was gone. Arthur lowered his sword, dumbfounded.

“What was that?” he asked and for a moment Merlin could almost hear Uther’s most iconic _What kind of sorcery is this?_ The thought would have made him grin, hadn’t he been quite confused about this encounter too. “I have no idea,” he admitted. “I didn’t feel any magic.”  
Arthur snorted. “Are you actually capable of that in your state?” He sheathed his sword again and Merlin felt like pouting. They went home without any further interruptions.

* * *

He had taken Merlin to Gaius’ and felt rather jumpy when the fool’s clumsy stumbling had almost woken the old man. Admittedly, not so much because of the physician’s interrupted night time but more because Arthur knew the biting effect Gaius’ reprimands could have, and right now he was really in absolutely no mood to deal with that –even if they were targeted at someone else.

So he manhandled Merlin into his bed, which creaked under his weight. Merlin groaned but otherwise didn’t put up much resistance when Arthur, quite unceremoniously, yanked his shirt over his head and tossed the wet boots into some corner. Merlin’s breeches were in a rather bad state too, the legs soaked trough and muddy. Arthur knew that it would be better to get them off but the part of him that had been brought up a crown prince – Merlin would consider that part to be the pratish one – bristled in indignation at the thought of having to undress his own manservant. It was beneath him, most certainly. When he grabbed for the thin blanket though, he saw a shiver run down Merlin’s lean form and Arthur felt himself relent. With a grunt he threw the blanket on the floor and instead reached for the lacing of Merlin’s breeches. He made sure that the scowl was fixed on his face when he pulled down the wet fabric and threw it in same corner as the boots had gone before.   
  
Still, Merlin showed no conscious reaction, instead the skin of his legs was covered in goose bumps and Arthur let himself be softened up by the display to retrieve the blanket and rub down the wet sheen. When he was done Merlin was dry but the blanket a clammy mess. With that he couldn’t cover his drunk and shivering servant. Arthur let out a weary sigh and ran a hand through his hair. It felt somewhat greasy too. He really couldn’t go back like this, it would elicit unnecessary rumours about where the king had spent the evening, and he didn’t want to trouble his sleeping queen.  
 So Arthur shrugged out his coat and let it drop to the floor. The rest of his clothes weren’t in a shape as bad as Merlin’s but his boots were muddy too and – and Merlin would have to clean in here tomorrow, most certainly.   
He pulled them off and got out of his breeches but made sure to keep on the shirt. He sat down on the bed next to Merlin, whose form looked askew, and put a hand on his forehead to check the temperature. Merlin seemed alright, apart from the alcohol induced black-out of course, and actually started to snuggle into the touch. Arthur couldn’t help a little amused huff coming over his lips. Of course, the idiot would be a cuddler.  
He spread the wet blanket over their feet and calves and lay down, making sure Merlin was pressed to his side and would get some of his body heat. Arthur closed his eyes. It had been a long day and the rain was still pouring down outside. For a moment the thought crossed his mind that if it didn’t stop soon there would be danger of flooding, and after the recent war losing crops was really the last thing Camelot needed. So with the usual thoughts concerning his kingdom and her people Arthur drifted into an uneasy sleep.

He woke again to some unintelligible mumbling and the feeling of a prickling numbness in his right hand. It took him a moment to realise that the origin of both was Merlin. Apparently, the idiot had decided that holding on to Arthur was a good idea while he was sleeping off his stupor. Under normal circumstances Arthur wouldn’t have minded - well some teasing was always involved– but this was his sword hand and Merlin was holding on to it with such a death grip that Arthur was sure he would get some bruising from it. He tried to wriggle free without waking Merlin but the motion elicited an unhappy grunt and a mumbled word Arthur couldn’t make out yet _felt_ immediately.

Without his own volition his body tensed and fell back on the lumpy mattress. A shocked gasp escaped his mouth. Merlin had trapped him.  
In the most laboured fashion he turned his head towards the sleeping sorcerer, who showed no sign of realizing what he had done.   
  
“Merlin,” Arthur pressed out, “release me now!”   
  
But of course the moron didn’t react - what had he expected? Arthur took a deep breath and tested his boundaries. It wasn’t as if Merlin’s magic rendered him completely motionless but more like being trapped in a blanket cocoon that still allowed a certain amount of movement. He turned his body more towards Merlin.  
  
“Merlin,” he tried again. “Wake up. You’re…. your magic is acting up.”  
  
Merlin groaned a bit, his eyelids fluttering. Arthur caught a flash of gold and felt the warm pressure engulfing him recede. He rolled his shoulders testingly and seriously wondered how Merlin had gone undetected in Camelot for so long. The man lacked any kind of noteworthy discipline or self-control. It was a disaster.  
  
He scooted to the bed’s edge and almost fell off when he yanked his hand free a bit too forcefully. The sorcerer mumbled a groggy “don’t” but otherwise didn’t react. Arthur sighed - deliberately and very loudly - hoping it would finally have the desired effect. When Merlin opened his eyes though, he didn’t look much more awake than before. Quite on the contrary, his gaze was unfocused and detached, and unfortunately all too familiar. Arthur grimaced and got up.   
He regarded Merlin with his unseeing eyes that stared into the distance and decided that he’s had enough of it. He had dragged the drunken idiot home, put him to bed, even tolerated a magical attack –albeit incidental – without a big fuss, but now it was enough. Merlin might not know what was going on but Arthur wouldn’t put up with it any longer. So without another look back at his confused servant Arthur left.

* * *

The next time he saw Merlin was when he stumbled, pale and with dark circles under his eyes, into the council chambers. Leon was reporting on Saxons being sighted close to the north western border but Arthur stopped paying any proper attention once the idiot had taken his place in the lines of servants, looking positively miserable. Arthur felt a dark satisfaction at the sight. He shot Merlin a smug grin that was countered by a barely visible eye roll. The corner of Arthur’s lips tugged up, he could almost hear the insults Merlin must be repeating in his head.  
  
“His Majesty most certainly agrees that taking measures immediately is of utmost importance.” Councillor Daegan had directed his words at Sir Leon but his eyes were following Arthur’s every move. The king coughed and made a deflective gesture. Daegan wasn’t exactly one of his personal favourites. The man had belonged to his father’s council and it showed more often than not that he considered Arthur a boy who was in need of guidance by an experienced hand. Of course, Daegan considered himself to be that hand. Arthur would have loved to get rid of him.  
  
“We will send a patrol there. But apart from that I’m unwilling to spare any more men at the moment.” With that Arthur considered the issue closed. Leon nodded and bowed. He seemed to agree with the king’s decision but when he turned to leave Daegan raised his hand again and stopped him.  
“Is it true that another person had been reported missing, Sir Leon? The rumours concerning the repeated disappearances from the citadel are really quite worrisome.” Daegan had put on a troubled expression but his eyes shifted to Arthur all the same.

The king sat up in his chair, straightening his position. From the corner of his eyes he noticed that Merlin had done the same, obviously much more focused now. Arthur let his gaze shift back to Leon. “Is this true? If yes, I wish to be informed immediately of such news.” He tried to sound stern.   
  
Leon hesitated with his answer. “We have not yet been able to verify the disappearance, that’s why I haven’t brought it up, sire.” Arthur nodded. Leon didn’t want to cause unnecessary panic because this was already the third person gone missing in Camelot and people were starting to notice.  
He rubbed his forehead. “Please continue with your investigation. If this proves to be another mysterious disappearance, we need to take action against it.”  
  
“This could be the work of sorcerers?” Daegan threw in and Arthur felt himself tensing up involuntarily. He had to take a very deep breath before he answered: “In the last few days I’ve seen more sorcery than I ever wanted to, but before we all turn into my father,” some uneasy laughter followed, “I’d rather have this looked into with a less biased attitude. Maybe there’s a perfectly normal explanation to this.” His gaze drifted to Merlin who looked even paler than before, if that was possible. Leon nodded obediently and left.

Arthur turned back to his councillors. “Anything else you consider worthy of my attention?”  
And while he addressed all of them it was clear he particularly meant Daegan, who he pointedly didn’t look at. When he was already about to get up and declare the council closed, it was old Mangold who stepped forward with a little cough.  
  
“Although I have my doubts about its truthfulness, sire, it still might be necessary – for the protocol -  to mention that there has apparently been a ghost sighting in the Lower Town.”  
  
Arthur wanted to groan. He sat back in his chair. If his councillors continued to uphold this amount of quality work he could just as well give the post to crazy Moll – or Merlin. Speaking of which, that one had shifted a bit closer to him. Under the pretext of putting the king’s goblet away Merlin had succeeded in securing the position right behind him, which was normally a sign he wanted to talk to him in private. Arthur ignored his presence like he was supposed to but shared the sentiment nonetheless.

“A ghost sighting?” he repeated, sounding unamused.

“Yes, sire.” Mangold nodded. “It apparently takes the shape of a woman. However, nobody has been hurt so far. The ghost only passes by and seems to ignore the people.”  
  
Arthur regarded Mangold with a frown; he really wasn’t in the mood for this. “And what makes this ghost tale any more believable than your average drunkard’s babble?” he asked.  
Mangold swallowed, clearly not so sure anymore about the significance of the news. “Well, sire, as several people have reported on seeing the ghost, it seemed a good idea to make it known that there is a haunting. After all, the last time…”  
  
Arthur let the rest of Mangold’s sentence fade out. He really didn’t need that. His eyes travelled to Merlin who shot him a lopsided grin. He obviously shared Arthur’s opinion on unvengeful lady spirits. They really had to get out of here and investigate the disappearances. After their failed attempt from yesterday Arthur had already come up with some new ideas on how to proceed.

“…. And seeing that most of the witnesses described the woman as wearing a long, hooded cloak it is unlikely to be a simple coincidence.”  
  
Arthur’s head immediately snapped back to the councillor. “A cloak?” he asked.  
“Yes, sire. So it is reported.” Mangold supplied hesitatingly, clearly surprised by the king’s newfound interest. Arthur exchanged a look with Merlin, who only raised a confused eyebrow, obviously having lost the memory of their nightly encounter in the aftermath of his stupor. Arthur pursed his lips in the most displeased manner and decided that he didn’t have time for this anyway.

“The council is dismissed.”  


* * *

“What do you want to do now?” Merlin asked.  
Arthur ran a hand through his hair while he paced the room. “I don’t know, Merlin. This is your field, you tell me.”  
Merlin wrinkled his forehead. “Since when do you listen to what I say?”

Arthur shot him a reproachful glare, which only made Merlin lift his hands in a placating gesture.  
“Alright, I get it. But I still don’t know any more than you do.”

“Well, according to Leon’s report the guy missing was last seen at – oh, surprise! – _The Rising Sun_. He left alone and apparently never arrived at home. And now guess the man’s description!”  
Merlin shook his head confusion. “Why would I know what he looked li –“ before he could finish Arthur had walked over and grabbed his wrist. “Because you saw him. We both did! Well, you probably didn’t because you were too much into your cups, but it was the guy we tried to follow. Curly, ash blond hair, pockmarked face. Does that ring a bell?” Merlin grimaced, staring at his wrist in Arthur’s hand. He didn’t really remember any marks but that didn’t mean much, so he just nodded cautiously.

“We lost him because you were too drunk to walk properly and now he’s disappeared, exactly like Brianna, the stable boy and the second rate bard. We could have prevented this but no, you had to use the occasion to…” Arthur’s voice trailed off. He shook his head and let go of Merlin, who was staring at the floor, abashed.   
  
Arthur regarded him for a while then took a deep breath. Calmer he said:  
“Why did you even do it? I mean I don’t mind you drinking the occasional ale but you knew this was important. Why couldn’t you restrain yourself? This is so unlike you.”

Merlin looked up, there was something undeniably desperate in his eyes. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something but nothing came out. His gaze shifted to a point somewhere behind Arthur.  
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I just felt like getting drunk. It’s… I know it was stupid.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “You felt like getting drunk?” he repeated. “Merlin, because of you…”  
Arthur felt all the words - the reproaches - bubbling beneath his skin, but in how Merlin looked so lost he realised it was pointless. This would just lead to _another I don’t know what’s wrong, I swear I don’t do it on purpose_ confession. And Arthur’s had enough of it. So he stopped. He took a step back and brought a bit of distance between him and Merlin.

“I’ll have to punish you for this.”

Merlin looked dumbstruck, but after a tense second he nodded and seemed to settle a bit more into himself again. “I understand,” he said and even managed a pained smile. “And what do you have in mind, sire?”

Arthur rubbed his chin, pretending to actually consider the question while studying the other man.  “Well, obstruction of justice would most certainly lead to you being thrown into the dungeons. Drunkenness in public, on the other hand, would get you to spend some quality time with your good old friend, the stocks. So which one do you want?”

Merlin hesitated. “Do I really get a say in this?” he asked, sounding just a tiny bit hopeful. And Arthur, despite his anger, couldn’t help feeling maybe a tiny bit amused.  He took a step towards him. “What do you think?”  
He grabbed Merlin by the neck and started dragging him towards the door. The guards outside looked positively surprised when he shoved his servant through the door, bellowing the order to have him put in the stocks for the rest of the day. Merlin’s scandalized expression was almost funny.   
  
He watched as the guards scurried him away and made plans to have another talk with Leon about the missing people.

* * *

Well, admittedly, Merlin had imagined his afternoon to play out a bit differently but he couldn’t really fault Arthur for his decision. To be honest he almost found this punishment a bit too lenient, _almost_. He rolled his shoulders and cursed inwardly. He had forgotten how uncomfortable the stocks were.  Despite Arthur threatening him on a regular basis, it had actually been a while since he’d been put here. When he thought about it, the last time Uther had still been around. He creased his forehead and wondered if this kind of nostalgia was really called for. Probably not.   
  
Merlin tried to crane his neck and failed miserably. He was waiting for Gaius to return, who – after a thorough scolding, of course – had promised to bring him something against his headache. Still, the old man apparently didn’t deem it necessary to hurry up, but it wasn’t as if Merlin was going somewhere anyway. He grinned at his own lame joke and waved at the passers-by who stared a bit too rudely. He was probably lucky that after the war food was still rationed and there weren’t enough leftovers to waste them on Merlin. So the children, who would normally have been delighted to pelt him with anything squishy, had to content themselves with dancing some rounds around his block while chanting rhymes that contained his name and a whole lot of variations of the word idiot. Merlin would actually have been impressed hadn’t the off-key singing rung so badly in his oversensitive ears.  

It wasn’t Gaius who eventually ended his suffering in returning with the much desired draught but the voice of a woman that yelled something about the kids’ parents being on their way here.  The cluster dispersed immediately and Merlin was about to express his eternal thanks to his saviour when he noticed that the voice’s owner was standing right in front of him with a rather nasty scowl on her face. It made the words die on his lips immediately.   
  
It took him a moment to recognize her because she had a rather shabby-looking brown shawl wrapped around her head but this was the girl from the petitions yesterday, the one that had accused her brother’s fiancée of sorcery. Merlin swallowed. Wasn’t she supposed to be locked up?

He offered a tentative “Hello?”

The woman didn’t answer, instead she went on staring like she wanted to mangle him. It made Merlin a bit uneasy. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Yes, you can, traitor,” she finally hissed.

“Excuse me?” Now Merlin definitely felt the need to shift from one foot to the other.  
“Oh, don’t pretend, witcher! We both know it’s you.”   
More out of habit Merlin tried to turn his head to check if somebody had heard before he focused on her again. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked in a much lower voice now.

She narrowed her eyes but then a smirk appeared on her face and she took a step closer to him.  
“So you prefer to play dumb. Very well, I don’t care. I want to know why it didn’t work. After all I stuck to my end of the bargain.”  
  
Merlin could only shake his head in confusion, feeling more than a bit alarmed now. “Listen, I really have no idea what…” but she didn’t let him finish instead she grabbed the hair of his fringe, brutally forcing his head backwards. The collision with the wooden boards made him wince and between clenched teeth he pressed a strained “what do you want from me?” out.

“What I want?! What you promised me, you fraud!” She let go of his hair abruptly and Merlin’s head lolled forward again. “I can’t believe you’re the king’s manservant. I didn’t recognize you at first but now everything makes so much more sense.”   
Merlin could only stare at her, feeling the anxiety rising. Somewhere behind them a couple passed by, giving them a suspicious look before scurrying off.  
“Would you mind tuning it down a little bit,” he shushed, involuntarily jolting his own restraints.

She sneered but took a step back, regarding Merlin disdainfully. “Does the king know what you’re up to behind his back?”  
“I’m not up to anything!” he tried to argue back but part of him already knew it would be pointless. He sighed. “Listen, whatever you think I have done… it’s a misunderstanding… I don’t…”  
“No, you listen!” she interrupted. “You promised me the poultice would help me getting rid of that harlot but now exactly the opposite happened. He wants to marry her and everybody thinks I’m a liar!”

He stared at her, wide-eyed, trying to make sense of what he had just heard. The girl, however, apparently still hadn’t finished because she bent down a little and whispered into his ear:  
“I’m gonna make you pay for this. I’m gonna tell everybody the truth about what you are.”   
  
With that she turned around and started to walk away. Merlin couldn’t really say what happened after that. It must have been a panic reaction because suddenly he felt his own magic springing to life and the locks on his restraints snapped open. Before he fully realised what he had done he was already on his feet and running after her. “Wait!”  
But of course this was also the very moment the couple from before had decided to return with some guards in tow, pointing at the escaping prisoner. “Halt! Stop where you’re going this very moment!”  
Merlin froze, his gaze alternating between the guards pointing their halberds at him and the girl inconspicuously slipping away. She winked at him before she disappeared around the next corner and Merlin felt foolish.

When the guards grabbed and started dragging him towards the direction of the castle, he knew he was in big trouble.

* * *

Being thrown into the dungeons hadn’t come as a very big surprise. Being left there for almost a whole day until Arthur eventually deemed it appropriate to come and see him felt a bit spiteful though. So Merlin sent his best wretched expression in his direction when he appeared on the other side of the bars. The king, of course, wasn’t fazed. Instead he regarded Merlin with a cool detachment, not saying anything.  
They simply stared at one another for a few seconds before Merlin relented, lowered his gaze and uttered a meek “I’m sorry.” When that still couldn’t elicit a reaction from Arthur, Merlin looked up again, cautiously searching the king’s face for any trace of sympathy. But Arthur’s expression stayed stony. With his arms clasped behind his back and regal bearing he looked like he was about to pass judgement on Merlin.  
  
“Arthur, I know I shouldn’t have broken free from the stocks but I had to go after her,” he tried again, taking a step forward and putting his hands around the cold bars, making sure he sounded pleading.  
Though when the king’s demeanour finally broke, it wasn’t the reaction Merlin had hoped for, because Arthur only wrinkled his nose and retreated a bit.  
“You have an excuse for everything, don’t you?” He shook his head, his voice hard.

Merlin’s eyes went wide. “No, Arthur, it’s not… I didn’t mean to… I had to…” he stammered but Arthur’s expression was unforgiving. Merlin let his head fall forward, clanking against the bars.  
“I’m sorry,” he murmured again “I didn’t think about it.”

A huff was the answer but he could hear Arthur taking a step closer again. “That’s what I thought.”  
Merlin peered up from underneath his lashes. Arthur was approaching the lock and Merlin immediately straightened, wanting to make space for the door to be opened but the king paused in his movement, regarding him again with another reproachful expression. “I thought we had agreed upon you going subtly about the whole magic business? Breaking free from the stocks without a key and without any obvious signs of force is not exactly what I call subtle. Or do I have to explain the meaning of the word to you again?” Arthur put the key in the lock while Merlin was nodding dutifully.  
“I know what subtle means,” he said with a lopsided grin while Arthur turned the key, but the joke fell flat and so Merlin could only step back while the door was opened. Arthur signalled for him to get out with a curt nod but when Merlin wanted to turn left his upper-arm was grabbed rather painfully.  
  
“Not the exit,” Arthur hissed and pulled him in the opposite direction. Merlin let himself be dragged along but the confusion was written plainly on his face.  
  
“Where are we going?” he asked but Arthur ignored his inquiry, instead the grip around his arm tightened. It made Merlin a bit nervous.  
“Listen Arthur, I only went after her because she seemed to know about my magic. She threatened…” he couldn’t finish the sentence because Arthur roughly shoved him through another door, immediately locking it after them. Merlin scanned the room and felt his stomach drop. He was pretty sure he had never been in here before.   
“Is this the torture chamber?”  he asked with eyes gone wide.  
Arthur nodded. “It hasn’t been in use for a while.”  
Merlin’s jaw dropped. “Arthur, you’re not seriously planning on…” he gestured to the instruments on the wall. There was a little twitch of the corners of Arthur’s mouth before he schooled his features back into the unreadable mask from before. “That entirely depends on you. Now take off the jacket and kneel over there.” Arthur pointed to a weird wooden device that looked like some smaller scale stocks only with a bench attached to them.

“Excuse me?”  
“You heard what I said, do it now.”  
Merlin gaped. His gaze flickered between Arthur and the bench and he barely succeeded in closing his mouth again. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m waiting, Merlin.”  
  
Merlin swallowed. Rationally, he knew that this was a test and that Arthur wanted proof of his loyalty after his many screw-ups in the last few days, but that didn’t change that fact that he felt extremely disconcerted about the idea of being locked up in some weird device in the torture chamber. Nonetheless, he started fumbling with his jacket. With clumsy fingers he let it fall to the ground, sending a little pleading look in Arthur’s direction.  The king, however, stayed so pointedly unimpressed that Merlin had no choice but to take a cautious step over to the bench. He shot Arthur another questioning look before he knelt down and placed his wrists in the wooden shackles. The king snapped them shut and Merlin couldn’t help a wince.

“Now, let’s talk.” Arthur leant against the wall, his arms folded in front of his chest.

“And for that it’s necessary to lock me up here?” Merlin asked with a frown on his face.  
“It is. Seeing as you have developed a penchant for lying or evading my questions.”  
Merlin pressed his lips together, he felt very uncomfortable in his skin right now. “I don’t do it on purpose, I already told you so.”

“That doesn’t exactly make it better.” Arthur had turned around and was now examining the tools decorating the wall. And while Merlin realised that this was a mere strategy of intimidation, he couldn’t say it wasn’t working. He swallowed, his eyes trained on Arthur’s every move.   
  
“I’m trying, Arthur. I really do.” He sounded desperate now that king’s fingers were trailing the wooden structure of a rather large paddle. A shiver was running down his spine.  
“I know something is wrong with me,” he hastened to add when the tool was lifted out of its holder.  
Arthur turned around, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Go on.”  
“I – “ Merlin’s mouth felt really dry. “I don’t know what it is.” Arthur took a step closer to him.  
“It’s like whenever I try to give it some thought I get distracted.”   
“Then you have to try harder.” Arthur took another step in his direction.

Merlin’s eyes were wide and he involuntarily shifted in his bonds. “Arthur, you’re not really going to…” He eyed the paddle in Arthur’s hands. Instead of answering an oddly cheerful expression crossed the king’s face though. “Do you know what the label on this says? Made from elder wood. Isn’t elder wood like totally magical?”   
Merlin pressed his lips together before he forced himself to throw an equally fake smile back at Arthur. “Doesn’t look very magical to me.”  
  
“Well then, let’s find out.” And with that Arthur swung the paddle, making it collide hard with Merlin’s backside.

Merlin yelped. He would always insist that is was more out of surprise than actual pain, but elder wood indeed hurt like thrice cursed bloody elder wood! He balled his fists and very slowly turned his head to Arthur. “Definitely not magical,” he rasped through gritted teeth.   
  
Arthur laughed. The prat really had the insolence to laugh at him!

In the most casual manner Arthur pulled out a chair next to him and flopped into it. He propped the paddle against his leg and let his gaze wander over his servant’s slightly dishevelled appearance, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “How are you feeling?”

“What do you think?!” Merlin snapped, shifting his weight from one knee to the other. His face felt quite hot too. Arthur, the smug bastard, only seemed more pleased with that though. He let his eyes linger a bit longer before he leant forward and fixed him with something much more serious in his expression. “We’re talking business now. No more games, Merlin…”  
  
Merlin wanted to protest but Arthur ignored him. “No more weird excuses. Just tell me the truth. Tell me everything you know.”

Merlin swallowed. His throat suddenly felt quite sore and the shackles holding him seemed so constrictive he wanted to snap them open. He could snap them open, anytime. He knew that and Arthur knew it too, that was the point of this whole thing, wasn’t it? He let his head sink forward so his forehead touched the wood.

“I really don’t know what’s going on, Arthur. I swear. If I knew I would have made it stop long ago.”  
He couldn’t see Arthur’s reaction but he heard the not very subtle noise of wood scraping over stone. It made his flesh crawl. But instead of another slap he felt a hand settle in his neck. Not very gently it forced him to look up.

“Merlin…”

Arthur’s expression said it all. He was concerned, angered, suspicious, disappointed…  
Merlin could see it all and he knew that now was the moment he had to confess, just that he didn’t really know what to say or if he even had something to confess.  
  
He stared and the seconds were ticking by. The thoughts in his head were whirling. It was all so tangled up.   
  
Arthur looked at him expectantly but his brows were beginning to crease. He was running out of patience while Merlin still tried to make up his mind. When he was already about to turn around with an upset huff Merlin spluttered: “I have nightmares.”  
Arthur’s head snapped back. He looked at him questioningly as if he hadn’t fully understood what Merlin had said.

“I have nightmares… every night since…” he admitted, lowering his gaze.  
“I figured,” Arthur said in a low voice. “What are they about?”

Merlin only shook his head. “That’s the problem. I don’t remember them in the morning. But I know they must have been nightmares because I feel terrible when I get up. Like I’ve been drained…”  
Arthur nodded, leaning back in his chair. He seemed to ponder Merlin’s words. More to himself he muttered: “So they must be magical.”

Merlin involuntarily jerked at his restraints. “What makes you think that?” He sounded alarmed.  
Arthur raised an unimpressed eyebrow as if saying _really, Merlin?_  
“Well, nightmares you don’t remember but haunt you every night and leave you utterly miserable don’t exactly sound normal. Or what do you normally dream of?”  
Merlin pursed his lips but had to admit to Arthur had a point, so he only shrugged and averted his gaze. Something about this conclusion made him feel uneasy.

Arthur rubbed his chin. “So it’s the Sidhe?”  
Merlin didn’t answer immediately; instead he took a deep breath before he said: “It’s the only thing I can think of.” The admission didn’t make him feel better. Quite on the contrary, actually. A shiver ran down his spine, like the frozen breath of a warning he didn’t quite remember. Merlin knew instantly he had said too much, but the king didn’t seem to share this sentiment and instead watched Merlin intently. “Then we have to go there and talk to them.”   
  
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Merlin knew he was going to regret this, “I made a pact with them. I can’t go back on it.” For a moment he was truly tempted to use his magic on the stocks holding him, so he could just get up and walk away. He felt like doing it.  
“And that’s exactly the point.” Arthur’s gaze didn’t waver but his eyes had narrowed. “You made a pact with some magical creatures, not really knowing what it implied and now we might all be in danger. And don’t you dare telling me the missing people are just a coincidence. “

Merlin swallowed and shifted in his bonds. “I-I don’t think it’s a coincidence.” He tried to give his voice a firm tone but he didn’t really succeed. “Arthur, I’m really trying to fix this but you…”  
“No, Merlin,” Arthur held up his hand, interrupting him mid-sentence. “I’ve had enough of your _You just have to trust me_. Look where it landed us,” for emphasis he gestured around them, “in the bloody torture chamber! We will head for Avalon tomorrow, no back talk!” Merlin’s eyes went wide.  
“Before we leave I want the compiled notes on what you have on the Sidhe, by Gaius, not you! For you have obviously been compromised.”  
  
Merlin wanted to argue back, say that he was in no way disloyal to Arthur but the king’s stern look made him press his lips together and swallow his words with an unhappy frown. Arthur nodded, obviously feeling vindicated.  
  
“And now,” he took hold of the paddle again and got up.   
Merlin felt very bad about this development. He tried to follow Arthur’s movement out of the corner of his eyes, but the other man had moved to a position right behind him.  
“…we’re discussing your punishment.”

Another hard smack landed on Merlin’s buttocks and he screeched.

“Punishment?! That’s not fair, Arthur! I did what you as you said, I told you everything I know, I swear!”   
  
Behind him he heard Arthur chuckle. “Oh, this isn’t for now. It’s for all the times you were late or didn’t show up at all.” He swung the paddle again. “It’s for getting drunk and losing us an important witness.” Merlin felt the pain spreading through his body like wildfire. He desperately had to suppress a whimper.   
“It’s for breaking out of the stocks against your king’s orders…” Arthur especially stressed the last words while the paddling continued.

“It’s for being an even lousier manservant than you normally are.” With that the last smack fell on his backside and the silence that followed felt deafening.   
  
Merlin heard himself breathe heavily, he was covered in sweat and his ass burned. As far as he was able to he turned his head and tried to get a look at Arthur. The king, however, had his eyes fixed on the paddle and looked quite thoughtful again. Merlin cleared his throat, making Arthur look up. The king blushed slightly and Merlin couldn’t help feeling an answering heat spreading up to his face. “Are we done now?” he asked and sent Arthur something that was supposed to be a reproachful glare. Arthur nodded and awkwardly stepped over Merlin’s bent knees to get to the shackles.   
Merlin tried to push himself up but when his knees failed him, Arthur grabbed for him and heaved him up. Merlin wanted to protest but felt he couldn’t do much against Arthur’s ideas of helpfulness. So he let himself be dragged over to the door.

“You’re coming with me.” Arthur said without looking at him.  
“I am? Where to?” He stiffly tried to straighten his cloths and made a grab for his discarded jacket.

“To my chambers.”  
Merlin raised a questioning eyebrow.

“You said you always feel drained after your nightmares, so you’re going to spend the night where I can have an eye on you.” Merlin nodded and pretended he understood. He really didn’t.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm late again. This chapter is a bit shorter than the ones before but I still hope you like it. I really appreciate your comments and kudos!

Arthur’s night hadn’t been very fetching. After a very awkward bath and some badly-timed jokes about Merlin’s reddened buttocks, Arthur had succeeded in getting his annoying servant to lie down on some blankets before the hearth. All in all, it wasn’t such a bad deal yet the idiot had still constantly complained about how hard the floor was and that he would be so much better off in his own bed. So at some point Arthur had relented and let him climb in his bed. He really wondered what had possessed him there because that had turned out to be a truly abysmal idea. First, Merlin had just lain there, stiff as a board, as if he and Arthur had never shared a bed before and then,  when he had eventually relaxed, Arthur had been denied some proper sleep because that stupid sorcerer had started whimpering, tossing and turning in restlessness every few minutes, so that it was really impossible to ignore.

Arthur rubbed his forehead. Gwen, who sat opposite of him, patted his hand sympathetically. Her maidservant had brought them breakfast but Arthur didn’t feel like eating. The events of the night had effectively spoilt his appetite.  
  
“You know it I wasn’t so busy being angry with him, I’d actually feel sorry.”

Gwen nodded. “Yes, being unable to sleep is a sickness that wastes the body and the mind faster than people are aware of. I remember how utterly exhausted Morgana always was after such nights.” Arthur tensed. Gwen mentioning his sister was not something he had anticipated in this context but he forced himself to relax and lean back in his chair again. “I don’t think it’s the same as with Morgana though. Whatever Merlin has, it originates from that cursed lake.” His eyes drifted to the window but he could feel Guinevere’s stare fixed on him. He heard her sigh before she got up and stepped around the table to his side.   
“I know you’re worried, Arthur, but do you really think it’s a good idea to go back there?”  
“What other choice do I have? Camelot is in danger and Merlin’s not himself.” He put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. Her warmth always had a calming effect on him.  
“I know, but what if…” she struggled with the words and instead combed her fingers through his hair. Arthur snuggled into the touch. “I can’t live on borrowed time, Guinevere.”

He could feel her going tense against him, so he added, “but I don’t want to die either. That’s why I need to know what’s going on, so I can do something against it.”

She didn’t say anything to that. They both knew he had made up his mind and unlike a certain someone Gwen actually recognized when it was pointless to argue. So she just pressed a kiss to his forehead and said: “Please be careful then.”

He sent her rueful smile. “I promise.”

A knock ended their intimate moment. With a groan Arthur peeled himself from his wife’s embrace and bid the person to enter.   
“Sire,” it was a member of the guard. Arthur signalled for him to continue.   
“Sir Leon requests your presence in the Lower Town. Apparently a body has been found.”   
Arthur immediately perked up. He threw Gwen a silent glance then got up and grabbed his jacket while already walking towards the door.

* * *

 

The scene was hard to miss, the cluster of people making it unmistakably clear that something had happened here. Arthur could feel himself groan inwardly and was quite thankful for the guard’s authoritative “Make way for the king!” With the people shuffling out of their way he could detect Leon, Gaius and Merlin. They were bent over a body, agitatedly discussing something. All three of them bowed when they saw him approach and Arthur dismissed the guard with a flick of his hand to join their round. “So what do we have here?”

Gaius frowned then rubbed his chin in the usual manner. “A case of manslaughter, sire.  She was repeatedly hit over the head with this stone.” He pointed to a bloody thing lying not far from the body. Arthur nodded thoughtfully, studying the half-covered form of the victim.

“Merlin also informed me that you might be familiar with the victim.” On cue Merlin lifted the sheet from the body’s face revealing the distorted features of someone he indeed knew.  Arthur took a deep breath.   
“I thought she ran?” he asked, obviously addressing Merlin this time. The other man, still crouched next to the body, shrugged but didn’t look up. “I thought so too. Apparently we were wrong.” There was something very strained in his voice, it was obvious he was somehow blaming himself.  
“Well, she broke out from the tower.” Arthur supplied, not feeling very commiserating. “She was on the run from the law, quite possible she had other enemies, too. Only think of the woman she accused.” Leon and Gaius nodded in agreement but Merlin’s gaze was still glued to Moira’s dead body.

“She most certainly had other enemies, sire,” came Gaius to his aide, “because next to the physical wounds that caused her demise, there’s also the little fact that she’s missing her tongue.”  
 “Was it cut out?” Leon asked cautiously. He generally seemed quite shaken by the brutality of the young woman’s death. Gaius hesitated. “Well, it doesn’t look like it.”   
Both Arthur’s and Leon’s heads turned in his direction. The old man looked rather uncomfortable now. “There was no blood and no wound, she just doesn’t have a tongue.”

Arthur could feel his mood plummeting. “So it’s sorcery, again.” He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Great.” As if he didn’t already have enough other magical problems.  
  
“It doesn’t necessarily need to be connected. A sorcerer with the power to enact such a spell would probably not need to stoop so low to stave somebody’s head in with a stone.” Gaius reasoned with his ice-cold logic but by now it was pretty obvious to Arthur what he was doing: protecting Merlin.

“No, but they still made her shut up. Which means we’re looking for a sorcerer and a murderer.” Arthur concluded, his eyes following Merlin’s every move, who gently pulled the sheet back over Moira’s face before he got up again. His back was turned towards Arthur but the king could still see how tense he was.

“I’ll summon the victim’s brother and his fiancée for an interrogation. After all their engagement somehow seems to be at the centre of this whole mess,” Leon suggested. Arthur nodded without looking at the other man. He knew his captain of the guard was a capable man and therefore wasn’t bothered when the latter retreated after a short bow. That left him with Gaius and Merlin though. After a moment of pregnant silence Gaius sighed deeply and started shuffling away too.   
“I’ll go and get the wheelbarrow,” he called back over his shoulder. “Someone has to do it.”  
  
Arthur regarded Merlin, who was still avoiding to look at him.  
“Don’t you want to say something?” he asked and raised an eyebrow.  
“I didn’t do it,” Merlin snapped but his gaze was still anywhere else than on his king.  
“Well, I wasn’t suggesting you killed her but her to-“

“No!”  And now Merlin’s eyes finally focused in him. They were glazed over but that didn’t take anything from their intensity. Arthur swallowed.

“I did not, in any way, touch or enchant this girl.” Merlin balled his hands to fists. “This might be hard for you to believe but not all sorcerers go around and randomly bewitch people who piss them off.”  
The volume of his voice was raising and Arthur felt compelled to try and quieten him with a little gesture, but it went totally unnoticed. “I know I said she threatened to reveal my magic, but seriously, Arthur, who would people have believed: the convicted liar or the king’s manservant? She had nothing against me.” Merlin was breathing hard now and Arthur nodded, trying to convey his agreement while inconspicuously checking their surroundings.

“And even if, I still wouldn’t have done something like this. I swear,” Merlin said with finality in his voice. Arthur observed the sorcerer’s rigid posture with concern.  
“Alright,” he said and tried to send something like a reassuring look in his direction. “I believe you.”

Merlin frowned in confusion before his features brightened and little. “You do?”  
“Yes,” Arthur rolled his eyes and grabbed for Merlin’s wrist pulling him a bit farther away from the body. “But only because I know that with your womanish character –showing in how upset you just were – you’d never have the spine to do something like this.”  
Merlin pursed his lips and threw Arthur an unimpressed look over this argumentation. In a much more serious tone, though, Arthur added, “And I know you wouldn’t do it.”

Merlin looked at him then nodded. His gaze was a lot warmer now.  
“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Alright!” Arthur let go of his wrist abruptly, taking a step away from his manservant. “Then let’s find out who our culprit is. Can you –“ he waggled his fingers in the body’s direction, “somehow track whoever stole her tongue?”  
Merlin creased his forehead and stared at the covered corpse again before answering, “No, I’d need the missing tongue, the body alone is useless to me.”

Arthur huffed. “Great, just great.” He took a deep breath and stared at the sky before turning back to Merlin. “So you want me to comb the whole of Camelot for a missing tongue?”

“It would be a start,” Merlin said and shrugged.

* * *

 

“You know with a murderer on the loose we will have to postpone our trip to Avalon,” Merlin said carefully. They were searching Moira’s house, rummaging through trinkets and dust in hope of finding some clue. So far they had only found mice and cobwebs. 

Arthur huffed, glaring in Merlin’s direction. “Isn’t that what you want?”  
Merlin pretended to be busy going through a chest filled with some shabby, threadbare cloths.  
“Well, I’m not exactly eager to meet the Sidhe again. Last time their hospitality was rather wet,” he threw Arthur a lopsided grin, which was met by a grim frown and the king pointedly folding his arms over his chest. “You’re not getting away this time. We’re going, Merlin, even if I have to drag you there by your enormous ears.”  
“You’re such an ass.” He covered said ears in a mock-scandalized gesture.   
Arthur raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Don’t play sensitive maiden, you’re too ugly for it.”  
While Merlin still seemed to be working on a comeback, Arthur left for the little antechamber, feeling vindicated. He continued to search for proof of Moira’s sorcerous activities, or conspiratorial activities, or any kind of activities, really. But the antechamber proved to be as ordinary as the rest of the house. There was nothing which would have given them any clue on why the young woman had been murdered or by whom. Leon’s interrogation of her relatives hadn’t rendered any more information either, so this was all quite frustrating.

Arthur was idly examining a coat hanger when Merlin stumbled through the door, knocking something over in the process. Arthur didn’t bother to check what it was.  
“I found a shawl, sire.”  
Arthur turned with a sigh on his lips. He studied the ugly thing in Merlin’s hands with a frown, then shook his head. “And?”

“That’s the shawl she wore when she came to see me, when I was in the stocks.” The eager look on Merlin’s face seemed to indicate that he expected Arthur to make sense of this information but he really didn’t. “Well, if it isn’t a magical shawl that turns people invisible or something I don’t see how that’s important.” Merlin rolled his eyes and shot Arthur a reproachful _who’s the idiot here_ glance.   
“It means she came back here again, after I saw her.” He waved the thing in front of Arthur to underline his words.  
“That still doesn’t tell us who killed her or why.” Arthur retorted and Merlin instantly stopped the waving. For a moment he just stared before he said much slower: “Actually it does.”

Arthur frowned.   
  
“How e-“ he started to ask, but Merlin cut him short with a hasty gesture, threw the shawl on the floor and held out his hands over it. With an undeniable unease Arthur took a step back. He had realised what Merlin was about to do.  “Is that really necessary?”  
“It will show us where Moira was when she wore it. It’s brilliant, we can trace back her steps and maybe find a hint this way.” Arthur didn’t exactly share this opinion, but he couldn’t deny that it was a helpful expedient considering the rest of her house seemed to be a dead end. So he gave a little nod of consent but Merlin wasn’t paying attention anyway. He was already focused on the shawl, muttering some unintelligible words.

When the brown cloth suddenly lifted into the air and decided to fly straight out of the window, Arthur couldn’t say he was surprised. The puzzled look on Merlin’s face was almost amusing though. “I didn’t expect that. I thought it would give me a vision” he muttered, sheepishly scratching his head. Arthur took a deep breath and decided not to say anything to that before he smacked Merlin over the head and then continued to wordlessly point at the door.

* * *

 

“I can’t believe we’re chasing a flying shawl through the Lower Town,” Merlin panted, while trying to fight his way through the throng of people that came running in their direction without shoving them too roughly.  
“You’re the one to talk,” Arthur retorted harshly. He was several steps ahead of him, better exercise and stamina showing. One time they had almost caught up with the darn thing but then it apparently noticed their intention and increased its velocity in slithering away in the most serpentine fashion. Somewhere around that time the screaming had started. Merlin couldn’t fault the people for that, they probably thought it was a huge, flying, brown snake haunting Camelot – given her history not such a far-fetched assumption.  
  
Merlin grimaced and tried to catch his breath. The nights without proper sleep were showing right now. He really felt wretched. “Arthur,” he rattled, but the king just continued his hunt without looking back. Merlin stopped, clutching his chest because his vision had gone blurry. He was really getting too old for this. Arthur disappeared behind the next corner but the distinctive “Meeerlin!” affirmed that his absence was noted, after all. He took a very deep breath and straightened, purposefully walking after the commotion.   
When he finally arrived at the market square, the shawl was hovering above the stocks, being surrounded by four guards with halberds. Merlin closed up to Arthur. Still out of breath, he panted: “They have to let it pass. If they attack it, the spell breaks and we know as much as we did before.”  
Arthur nodded, signalling for the guards to lower their weapons but they proved to be rather reluctant about that order. With obvious distrust they stepped back, still aiming the pointy ends at the ominous cloth. The shawl, however, continued to swirl in nervous circles above the block, not making any move to continue its journey.  
  
“What’s it waiting for?” the king hissed.  
“I think it wants us to back off first.”

Arthur very slowly turned his head, his lips pressed together to a thin line. “Seriously?”  
He glared at Merlin then whispered through gritted teeth: “Next time you enchant something, make sure it doesn’t have a personality.”  
Merlin gave a pained smile. “I can’t really influence that, sire.” They focused on the shawl again.

“What exactly did Moira tell you while you were there?” Arthur asked and gestured to the block.  
Merlin instinctively shook his head. “Mostly weird stuff. She seemed to know about my magic but at the same time I had the impression she was mistaking me for someone else.”  
Arthur frowned. An unasked _How come?_ was clearly written on his face.  
Merlin grimaced then averted his eyes. “She implied I was the person who helped her making the poultice and that it was my fault it failed. But I have never seen the woman before she turned up at the petitions, I swear.”

Arthur pursed his lips and didn’t say anything. He took a step forward towards the guards, signalling again for them to make way for the enchanted cloth. Merlin observed as they – grudgingly – retreated to the outer margins of the square. The shawl was still swirling.  
“Arthur?”  Merlin asked, his eyes alternating between the shawl and his king’s tense back. But Arthur only lifted his hand, demanding silence, while he cautiously approached the stocks. Merlin hurried after him.   
  
“Whoever made the poultice is probably also responsible for Moira’s murder, so we really need this thing,” he pointed to the shawl then wiggled his fingers in the most exaggerated fashion, “to move.”    
Merlin gave him a dirty look. “If it was that easy, “ he imitated Arthur’s wiggling, “everybody could do it. And we wouldn’t need…” He never finished the sentence because the shawl suddenly accelerated its swirling and then flew literally over their heads. Merlin stared after it, dumbfounded.  
Arthur grinned and clapped his back before he began chasing after it again.   
  
“Out of the way!” he yelled, and Merlin could only roll his eyes.

* * *

 

“We lost it! I can’t believe we lost it!” Arthur was angrily gesturing around the empty alleyway, while Merlin was leaning against the nearest wall, exhaustedly trying to wipe the sweat from his face.  
“It was faster than I expected,” he said but only paid a mean amount of attention to Arthur’s rambling.  
“Yes, I noticed!” the king spat, pacing back and forth. He probably even said some more but Merlin wasn’t in any condition to really heed his words. Instead he listened to his own racing heartbeat. He really needed some rest, some proper one.

“I barely dare to ask but is there any chance to can summon the thing back here?” The contempt in Arthur’s voice was so obvious Merlin didn’t even bother to look up and only shook his head. He heard Arthur snort. “You’re really horrible as a sorcerer. You’re even worse than as a manservant.”  
Merlin ignored him. It wasn’t as if Arthur’s reproaches were anything new, so instead he just tried to gather his wits, thinking about how to proceed now. The problem was that the spell he had used on the shawl made it retrace the way it had travelled while Moira wore it, so it would eventually return to Moira’s house – probably – but they had lost it before it could have led them to any location that would have promised some clue of her murderer. He waved his hand and ended the spell in his mind. If the shawl was still flying around it would now drop to the ground as lifeless as it was supposed to be. After all, it was no use to them now and better not to scare the citizens any more than they already had.  
  
Arthur grabbed his upper arm, pulling him away from the wall quite forcefully and effectively breaking his reprieve. “What now?” the king asked, but his glare suggested that no matter what Merlin would say there was no right answer.  
“We could go back to Gaius’. Maybe the examination of the body has rendered some more information, “ he offered anyway, pointedly staring at where Arthur was holding him. The king narrowed his eyes but let go. Then he took a deep breath and stepped away, shaking his head.  
“I don’t know how you do it,” he muttered more to himself. Merlin knew it was probably a stupid idea to ask but the self-destructive part of him just couldn’t let it go. So he inquired, “What, sire?”

Arthur turned back around, studying Merlin’s form with a frown. “All of this. Hunting enchanted items of clothing, solving magical murders. You’ve done it for years, haven’t you?”  
Merlin wanted to retort that Arthur had done the same - at least to some extent - but the rattling sound from the stack of wood behind them diverted his attention. One of the logs had fallen to the ground; just like this. But of course, there was no real _just like this_ , so Merlin passed Arthur without paying attention to the latter’s slightly confused expression and walked over to the toppled wood. He picked it up and examined it. It looked perfectly ordinary. It felt perfectly ordinary. Arthur came up next to him. He didn’t say anything but then pointed at a little piece of paper jammed between two other logs from where the first one had fallen.   
“Maybe it’s what’s beneath,” he said and grinned at Merlin, who immediately dropped his log and pulled out the paper. He studied it with an intense gaze, his forehead wrinkling in the process.  
“Sometimes I fear I haven’t done this long enough,” he whispered, then shook his head and glanced at Arthur. In a more official tone he said: “This is a summoning spell. Quite a powerful one. I don’t know if Moira would have been able to pull it off, it…” he faltered and looked at the stack of wood.  
  
“It’s too much of a coincidence.”  
Arthur nodded. “Of course it is. But what else do we got?” He made an ushering gesture but Merlin just stared at him.

“You want me to evoke this spell? Seriously?”  
“As you said, it’s too much of a coincidence. Someone wanted us to find this.” He pointed at the crumpled piece of paper. “So can you summon whoever gets to be summoned?”  
Merlin gave an insecure nod, his gaze still alternating between Arthur and the spell in his hands.  
“But I’m really not sure we should do this. I don’t know who gets summoned. The spell only says it’s supposed to be the [_wīdfarend_](http://hord.ca/projects/eow/result.php?nt=widfarend&l=Both&match=word&output=macron), the wanderer. That could mean anything.” He shrugged, trying to cover up the nervousness that had taken hold of him. He really had a bad feeling about this. But Arthur seemed to have made up his mind. He pointed the middle of the dirt path, wordlessly implying that Merlin should do as he was told, while he quickly checked their surroundings.

“What? Here? Now? Are you crazy?! What if somebody sees?!” Merlin  hastily followed Arthur’s example of looking around while jumping from one foot to the other.   
Arthur raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Merlin, you somehow – and I would like to stress it’s still a huge mystery to my how – succeeded to go undetected in Camelot for ten years, so this really shouldn’t pose that much of a problem to you.” He sounded quite taunting, and Merlin could only grit his teeth and take a deep breath.  
  
“Alright,” he said, “but it’s a big spell. I need the space.”  
Arthur obligingly took a step back and observed as Merlin drew a circle on the ground with his foot.  
“This is the target,” Merlin continued explaining. He still felt rather jittery and it showed in his lines. “The wanderer will appear within it once summoned.” Arthur didn’t say anything to that only continued to enact the role of the spoilt royal prat with his arms crossed in front of his chest and a general air of bored impatience. It really had the tension rising in Merlin.   
  
“Arthur, are you really sure you want to go through with this? It’s a weird spell, I don’t think this is a good idea.” It was a last attempt and Merlin knew he must have been sounding rather pathetic, but really…  
  
Arthur looked at him, then after a moment of studying him intently he rolled his eyes. “Come on, Merlin. Try to scrape the little bits of manliness you possess together and get this going.”  
  
So in defeat there was nothing else left to do for Merlin than trudging over to the opposite end of the circle. Arthur threw an almost cheerful “don’t worry, if we get caught I promise to come up with an excuse” in. It didn’t make him feel any better when he started to mumble the incantation. The spell itself was nothing he had encountered before. It had a rather unusual make-up and would most certainly have stirred his interest, hadn’t the situation been so forced. He finished the words and felt the power rising. The magic pulsed through his veins, calling out to _the wanderer_ , ordering him here. Merlin felt the reaction, felt the pull, and then suddenly his vision blurred. He lost his sense of orientation and when looked down on himself he found that he was standing inside the circle.  
  
Somewhere far away he heard Arthur’s frightened cry of “Merlin!” before everything went black.

* * *

 

“Shouldn’t he have woken up by now? He has been out for over a day, that’s not normal. Not that anything’s normal with this….” The words faded out and Merlin felt a warm feeling spreading in his chest. He’d recognize Arthur’s worried rambling anywhere.  
Light filtered through his eyelids and blinded him. He groaned and immediately felt a pair of hands on him. “Merlin,” came Arthur’s concerned voice. Another hand felt his forehead.  
“Careful, sire. He must rest.”

Merlin forced his eyes open and after a moment of confused squinting he recognized the worried faces of Gaius and Arthur hovering above him. He gave them a weak smile and croaked:  
“What happened?”  
“You passed out, that’s what happened.” Arthur retorted in an almost scandalized fashion and something in the way he held his hand indicated that he was only one cheeky remark away from hitting Merlin over the head. Merlin knew Arthur’s affections tended to hurt, so he sent a smile in his direction before focusing on Gaius, of whom he expected a more useful answer.  
“It seems your attempted spell, “ Gaius cast a sideway glance at Arthur, “backfired and in combination with your unrested state you collapsed. All in all, you didn’t get seriously hurt. It was more a result of your fatigue, I’d say.” Merlin nodded dutifully. He couldn’t say whether he felt more rested now than before. Generally he was more inclined to say he felt disorientated and a bit dizzy.

“Let’s hope not. It would be too ridiculous to get hurt by your own spell, even for you. Really, Merlin, I thought you were supposed to be good at his?” Arthur was pacing next to his cot, gesturing around in a rather lively fashion. Merlin had to suppress an indignant pout.  
“You could just say you’re sorry for not taking my advice.”  
Arthur huffed. “As if. You’re a bungler, admit it. You conjured yourself into the circle. Who does that?”   
“I didn’t.” He sat up a bit straighter and folded his arms over his chest, but when even Gaius raised a questioning eyebrow at him he wasn’t so sure anymore he really hadn’t. “You said it yourself, the spell backfired. It happens. And it was a weird spell anyway.”

Arthur huffed again, obviously unimpressed by Merlin’s explanation, but finally settled down on the little stool next to his cot. He looked at his servant in a much milder manner now and it almost seemed as if he was about to say something when Gaius gave a little pointed cough.  
“Actually, the spell was indeed quite unusual,” he said while his fingers fumbled with the little piece of paper. He handed it back over to Merlin, who took it but mostly felt more confused about it.  
“The inner construction of the spell’s working is something I’ve encountered only once so far.” There was a weird suspense hanging in the air while Gaius first looked at Arthur then at Merlin, who involuntarily tensed.  
  
“Only the Sidhe employ such magic,” Gaius said with a grave voice and Merlin could barely hold back a groan. Of course, it was always the Sidhe, especially when he didn’t need them. He felt like pulling his own hair out. Next to him Arthur had gone very still. He was listening to Gaius with rapt attention, not taking his eyes off him.

“What is especially queer about this spell though is that it isn’t formulated in the Sidhe’s own language but in ours. Which is really most unusual because the Sidhe always tend to employ their very own kind of magic.” [1]  
  
Merlin barely dared to look over to Arthur, who, to his surprise, was only rubbing his chin. After a moment of pregnant silence in which they all seemed to be contemplating of how to proceed, the king finally spoke: “We’re leaving for lake Avalon as soon as Merlin is up to it. There will be no more delays, I’ll appoint Guinevere as regent im-“  
  
A knock interrupted Arthur’s solemn announcement in the most mundane fashion. All three of them stared at the door in wonder, before Gaius snapped out of it and called a careful “Come in” over there.  
Arthur seemed to need to hold back a slight pout. The royal ass obviously wasn’t used to being interrupted. Merlin was almost tempted to feel a bit smug.   
A young messenger stepped in, holding a little parcel out to Gaius, who had gotten up.   
“An urgent delivery from the deposit,” the messenger grumbled, clearly expecting a tip after having handed over his charge. Gaius gave him a few coins and ushered him out without much further ado.

“Were you expecting something? It’s quite late for mail.” Merlin voiced the question that had them all staring at the mysterious wrapped thing in Gaius’ hands. The old man shook his head but proceeded to sit down again next to Merlin’s bed. With nimble fingers he revealed what was hidden inside and gasped.

All three of them stared at it in shocked silence.  
  
“It that Morgana’s bracelet?” Arthur finally asked. Gaius lifted and examined it by turning it around in several directions. Merlin involuntarily recoiled a bit.  
“It seems like it,” Gaius answered with a frown. “But what is it doing here?”  
Attached to the bracelet also was a note. Arthur picked it off with the tip of his fingers, all the while making a grimace as if it might bite him. “ _For better dreams_ , it reads. What does that mean?” he looked at Merlin who could only shrug and generally felt a bit overwhelmed by the situation.  
  
“Who else knows about your nightmares?” Arthur asked, his tone much sharper now.  
“Nobody!” There was something clearly accusing in Arthur’s eyes while he studied Merlin. Probably without even noticing he had gotten up. Merlin swallowed and felt himself shrink back into the pillows.

“Sire, this all seems to be a rather tasteless prank. We don’t even know if this is really the bracelet Morgana used to wear; after all it’s been years since…” Arthur held up his hand, silencing the old physician. “It doesn’t matter. The note alone indicates that someone else is privy to information that shouldn’t have left this room. We have a spy here in Camelot,”  he concluded.   
For a moment there was only tense silence, then Merlin’s sigh broke it. “But it would be little use for a spy to announce his knowledge like that.” He searched for Arthur’s gaze and tried to make his voice sound firm. “It really has more of a taunting undertone to send us something like Morgana’s bracelet – no matter if fake or real – with such a note. Because that alone indicates that the sender hasn’t only knowledge of the events right now but also is well informed about Morgana and her history here.”

Arthur’s eyes widened, then he sat down again, deflated. “But who could…” he couldn’t finish the sentence and instead just stared helplessly at the two other men. Merlin had to avert his eyes. It was almost painful to see Arthur like this, so overcome in the face of events he could barely understand. It made him feel guilty again for all the secrets he had kept for such a long time. Gaius didn’t seem to be feeling much better, with his gaze shifting nervously between Arthur and Merlin, unable to hold any of it.  
“Sire,” he finally said, “this foe we’re facing right now knows how to play us very well. It uses our weaknesses and insecurities to its advantage. Maybe there is a logical explanation for all of this, maybe there isn’t, but we mustn’t let it take control over the situation and keep a cool head.”  
Arthur nodded distractedly, his attention now focused on the bracelet still lying on its wrapping in Gaius’ lap.

“Does it really help against nightmares?” he asked, completely shifting the conversation and throwing both sorcerers off their guard. Gaius frowned but then nodded reluctantly. “Yes, if this is indeed the bracelet that used to be in Morgana’s possession then it’s healing powers can be considered quite effective.“ Arthur stared at it some more and Merlin was getting a really weird feeling. He had an idea about where this was going and he was absolutely not in favour of it, yet he said nothing as Arthur just continued to ponder the piece of jewellery with an uncanny expression on his face.   
  
“Maybe we should try to find out if it is the real thing then.”  
  
“No!” Merlin shot up. “I know what you are about and I’m against it. I refuse to wear it!”   
  
Arthur just looked at him and said nothing, then – as if Merlin hadn’t just protested – he reached over to Gaius and took the bracelet in his hands. The turned and examined it from all directions before he most casually tossed it at his servant. Merlin folded the arms over his chest and raised his chin the most demonstrative manner. “No. You already insisted on going through with the ritual and see where it landed us.” For a moment a flicker of guilt appeared on Arthur’s face before he schooled his features back into the kingly mask he used to wear while dealing with obstinate peasants.  
“Yes, and I’m sorry for that. But we have made absolutely no progress in Moira’s case. Neither your shawl spell nor the summoning proved to be effective,” an unspoken _you’re really incompetent_ was understood by all parties, “the guards couldn’t find any clues either and right now we’re at an impasse. So now this gift, or whatever it is supposed to be, is the only thing that might lead us somewhere. But if you have any better suggestions please enlighten me.”

Merlin still had his arms crossed but his lower lip was quivering. They both knew that he didn’t have anything, so he just huffed and stared at a spot somewhere next to Arthur.  
“I thought so.” He picked up the bracelet again. “But if you’re afraid, I can wear it first, make sure it’s…”   
Merlin’s head snapped back at Arthur. “You, most certainly, won’t do that.” His eyes were positively flashing while he stared at Arthur, on whose lips a little self-satisfied smile was tugging. Merlin snatched the bracelet out of Arthur grasp. “What if I die while wearing it?” he wasn’t really serious about the question but the petulant part of his felt like throwing something at his royal pratness.

“Then I’ll drag your dead body to a certain lake and enter a pact with the Sidhe.”  
“That’s not funny.”

“I never thought it was funny.”

Merlin stared at Arthur, not sure what to think, then he took a deep breath and relented.  
“Alright. I’ll try it,” he said but shot Arthur a reproachful glare. The king nodded and stood up. The little glance in Gaius’s direction obviously indicated to look after Merlin and was met with a mild “Of course, sire.”

Arthur left and Merlin still sat on his cot, warily staring at the bracelet in his lap.  
“Arthur’s right. You could at least try it.”  
Merlin grimaced. “But what if it’s interwoven with an evil spell?”  
“Do you feel anything evil?”  
“No, but… does nobody worry about my safety anymore?” He tried to give his voice a scandalized tone but probably sounded more like sulky child, judging by Gaius’ reaction to put a soothing hand on his arm. “Arthur’s right, my boy. The bracelet is the only lead we have right now. And,” he paused, his gaze drifting to the door then back to Merlin, “if it can help you to a more restful sleep, I would consider it worth the risk.”

Merlin tensed, something in him was bristling. With much more effort than should be necessary he countered: “But Gaius, I’m already feeling much better than before. The little knock-out also had the upside that I finally got some shut-eye without dreams.” The strained smile he sent in the old man’s direction seemed to convince neither of them because Gaius just frowned and raised an eyebrow.  
“Oh, really? Then let me inform you that you don’t actually look better. Being knocked out doesn’t count as the restorative kind of sleep,” he waved a warming finger in front of Merlin’s face, “and that is starting to get to you. Don’t deny it. You are starting to make mistakes that would normally never happen to you otherwise. The lack of sleep makes you sloppy and your magic erratic.” Merlin wanted to object. He had already opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He stared at Gaius and knew the physician was right. So he just shook his head and held out his arm.

Gaius nodded, obviously satisfied while he slipped the bracelet on. “Don’t worry, I’ll have an eye on you. If something strange should occur I’ll take it off immediately.”  
Merlin huffed and refrained from saying anything else. He felt much wearier now and going to sleep didn’t seem like such an unappealing idea anymore.

* * *

 

Arthur felt really bone-tired. After he had escaped from his advisers, who had been especially persistent after the king had been absent for the good deal of the day – all because of stupid Merlin, of course – and shared a by far too short meal with his wife, he was on his way back to Gaius’ quarters. Somehow, he felt, this was really getting out of hand. Even though he admitted he wasn’t without guilt in Merlin’s latest adventure into bedriddenness, all their failures at making progress in restoring safety and order in his kingdom was starting to wear him down. He sighed inwardly and knocked softly at Gaius’ door. The old man opened and begged him to enter with a silent inclination of the head.  
“He’s been calm so far,” he said in a low voice. Arthur nodded and let his gaze wander over Gaius’ humble dwelling, now cast in the half-light the lit candles provided. Before he could inquire about Merlin’s whereabouts the old man pointed to the door. “I put him up in his own room. I need the cot for real patients and after you left he was fine enough to walk in there on his own. But he really needs some proper sleep.” Arthur could only agree on that. It was his turn to watch over Merlin now, so he took the candle Gaius held out to him and walked to the adjoining room. Before he entered though, he heard Gaius saying: “Should anything change, please don’t hesitate to wake me, sire.” Arthur nodded then entered.

The little room was dark and Arthur felt a small sense of annoyance over the fact that he was in here the second time this week. Their little trip to the tavern wasn’t forgotten yet but at least Merlin hadn’t passed out in drunken stupor this time. Arthur examined what he could make out of his servant's sleeping form in the dim light the candle provided. He actually looked quite peaceful. Arthur took a step closer, then decided to settle down on the chair next to Merlin’s bed. He put the candle on the bedside table and studied the other man’s sleeping face. Part of him was actually quite aware that what he was doing could be considered creepy but he tried to tell himself that this was all for the good of Camelot. Any maybe a little bit for Merlin’s.

As Gaius had said he was calm. No erratic flickering of his eyelids, no tossing, no turning, no moaning. Just calm and relaxed. Arthur stared at him and gradually felt himself unwind. He exhaled and leant back on the chair. Maybe the stupid bracelet really worked. Which would indeed be the best – and most ironic – thing happening to them since this whole ordeal had started. Arthur’s gaze wandered to the piece of jewellery on Merlin’s wrist. It reflected the candlelight and most surprisingly didn’t look as out of place on his servant as he had expected. Arthur huffed to himself. That only proved that he had been right about Merlin actually being a girl the whole time. But it wasn’t really any fun to tease Merlin when the other one was asleep, so Arthur, very carefully, extended his hand and touched it to Merlin’s forehead. He wanted to make sure he was alright, somehow expecting potential bad dreams to reveal themselves to his touch. But nothing happened. Merlin’s temperature was normal and if anything the idiot seemed to snuggle into his hand, again. Arthur rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the little smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Merlin really seemed to be better, so he wanted to retract his hand when the eyelids started to flutter. Arthur tensed, then Merlin’s eyes opened groggily.

They were blue.

Arthur felt a wave of relief wash over him, softly he whispered: “Go back to sleep.” But Merlin was trying to focus on his surroundings, squinting at the candle and at Arthur.  
“What’s the matter?” he yawned.  
“Nothing. Go back to sleep. I just wanted to make sure you’re fine.”  
“I was until you decided to wake me.” He gave Arthur a tired smile, his eyes adjusting to the light. Arthur nodded, not sure if he should use Merlin’s consciousness to address another issue that was weighing on his mind. Without wanting to his gaze strayed to the bracelet again but Merlin seemed to understand him nonetheless. The fingers of his other hand gently brushed over the silver crest.

“It works, “he said. “You were right.”   
Arthur felt like he couldn’t say anything to that. The truth would have been something like _I’m sorry I took a risk in forcing this on you but I didn’t know what else to do_ but instead he said: “I know you’re wary of everything that has Morgana attached to it. But it’s the first thing we try that actually hasn’t backfired yet.” Merlin gave a single nod and a slightly wry grin, his fingers absent-mindedly tracing the bracelet’s pattern.  
“It still doesn’t answer the question who sent it though,” he said after a moment.  
“I know. I pondered that question since the moment I stepped out of Gaius’ door. Because not many people would actually know this was Morgana’s bracelet and also be informed about its magical qualities. Actually, the only people that came to my mind were you and Gaius.” Arthur searched for Merlin’s gaze while he said those words, trying to convey that he wasn’t accusing, but in that blue eyes that looked back there still lay something provoking as if daring him to say it out loud.   
“Of course, Morgana herself and Morgause would also have known about it,” Arthur continued instead, swallowing the tense feeling down. “But they are both dead, so they couldn’t have done it.”  
  
“Well, according to Moll Morgana haunts the citadel, so maybe she has,” Merlin scoffed. Arthur joined with a humourless grin but then shook his head. “No, I think it must be one of their followers. Someone who knew but wasn’t important enough to ever cross our path.”  
Merlin pursed his lips and seemed to contemplate the option. “It’s possible,” he conceded, “but why would they help us now?” He lifted his wrist, deliberately letting the bracelet glisten in the faint light.  
“Because, and I don’t like to admit it, I actually feel better than I have I since… you know.”  
  
Arthur knew. He could see it in the other man’s whole demeanour that some kind of dark shadow had been lifted. “Maybe it’s redemption,” he mumbled more to himself, but Merlin had heard and was slightly wrinkling his nose. “I have my doubts about that; I’d rather say it might be the attempt to ingratiate themselves with us now that Morgana’s side proven to be the wrong one.”  
Arthur gave a little _fair enough_ nod. He was used to hypocrites at court, but sorcerers sending gifts was still something that made him rather uncomfortable.  
“Or it’s just a huge plot to overthrow Camelot, as usual.”  
“Probably the most likely explanation,” Merlin deadpanned. There was the little twitch of a grin at the corners of Merlin’s mouth and Arthur felt himself soften.  
“Right now I’m willing to take whatever I can get if it makes you better.” He lowered his gaze but he could feel Merlin reach out to touch him. “Arthur, it’s not as if I was dying.”

“No, yet I’m still searching for the Merlin I used to know.”  
  
Merlin’s hand slipped away and he lowered himself back into the pillows.  
“Things will get better,” he mumbled, indicating with a tired rub over the eyes that he intended to go back to sleep. Arthur acquiesced, slowly getting up from the chair.  
“Get some more rest. We leave for Avalon before noon,” he said with finality. A short look at the candle made him decide to leave it at Merlin’s bedside and search for the way out in the dark.

Lucky for Arthur though, Gaius had left one burning on the table in the main room. So when he stepped through the door the sight of a slightly snoring Gaius lying on his pallet greeted him.   
Arthur turned around to close the door to Merlin’s room as quietly as possible but when he turned back there was someone sitting at the table. Arthur froze.   
He stared at the dimly lit shape of the figure wearing a long cloak with a big hood concealing the face. Somehow this felt vaguely familiar. Arthur took a cautious step forward, not daring to make a sound. When he was standing right behind the stranger, almost close enough to lift a hand and touch them, something unexpected happened.

The figure moved, one side of the cloak was thrown back and now revealed a pale, thin and obviously female arm. Arthur stopped. He stared at the fair skin, the delicate wrist, and knew that he knew it. The figure, however, didn’t turn. It – she – propped her elbow on the table, rotated her wrist as if to put emphasis on it and then tapped it lightly twice.   
“What is the meaning of this?” Arthur asked very softly, as if afraid to spook the spectre. The figure’s head started to turn. At the same time Gaius gave a little grunt in his sleep and turned over, and Arthur made the mistake to shift his attention to him. It was only the blink of an eye but it was too late, the ghost was gone.

Arthur felt like screaming, smashing all of the numerous trinkets on Gaius’ table, but instead he just took a very deep breath and balled his fist. With quick steps he left the physician’s chambers. He knew he wouldn’t sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] According to the Merlin wiki, the Sidhe spells in the show are the only ones that aren’t in Old English but in Old Irish.
> 
>  
> 
> Note: This is the end of the first part. The second will take place on the road with the boys questing. I guess I can promise that there will be more interactions with the (remaining) knights, who got a bit neglected in this first part. I'd also like to add that there probably won't be a chapter next month because of real life duties. But I'm really looking forward to this second part, so stay tuned!


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I have to apologize for the delay – although “delay” is an understatementT-T  
> I can’t really say what happened, but I never intended to let people wait that long. A year ago, I had to hand in my Master thesis, then I had my Master exams, and then I fell into a big black hole of procrastination. And then suddenly real life kicked in again. Anyway, I apologize and hope there are some people left, who are interested in this. Because I’m certainly interested in finishing it.

„And you know, the last time we did that you ended up in that bog and came out with your hair all green and…“ Merlin chattered. Arthur wasn’t paying any proper attention, but he had to admit that his manservant’s incessant babbling had an almost calming effect on him.

“You look horrible in green. That colour really doesn’t become you,” Merlin continued. Arthur snorted and dodged a low-hanging branch trying focus on the uneven path. Next to him he could see Percival smirking and even Leon seemed to have to suppress a grin. Merlin’s cheerful mood obviously had a good positive effect on his men. It would have had a good effect on him too hadn’t he spent the night wide awake pondering his spiritual encounter.

“You really should try something new. How about a more daring colour, such as… mauve.”

Arthur slowly turned his head in Merlin’s direction and raised an eyebrow. “Someone who owns two tunics, two neckerchiefs and one pair of breeches wants to give me fashion advice?”

“Well,” Merlin drawled and there was a glint in his eyes, clearly showing that he was preparing for some kind of comeback, “that’s only because my employer is such a miser.”  
“Oh, really?” Arthur guided his mare closer to Merlin’s. “Maybe your employer should provide you with some new garb then.” He picked some leaves from the nearest shrubbery and threw them at Merlin. ”There, green! Doesn’t look so good on you either.”

Merlin rewarded him with his best unimpressed look; and while he picked the leaves from his clothes in the most demonstrative fashion, Arthur briefly wondered why someone like Merlin couldn’t just conjure himself some new things. The question was on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed it and averted his gaze instead, but Merlin seemed to have got the clue anyway. He shrugged wordlessly and his eyes supplied _it’s not as simple as that_.  
  
“You know, Merlin,” Arthur said in a lower voice, “if you want a raise you only need to say so.”  
“I know, I’m perfectly fine,” he answered with a fond expression on his face, then after a pause he gestured to his scarf, “you can consider this a style.” Arthur scoffed and Merlin’s grin turned wicked. “Besides, if I want more money from you I can always beat you at dice.”  
  
“Cheat,” Arthur whispered and a shudder run through Merlin. He leant over and returned in the most conspiratorial fashion, “prove it.” Arthur felt the corners of his mouth curl upwards.

“What are you two tattling about?” Percival was shooting them a friendly but curious glance and Arthur raised an eyebrow. It was unusual for Percival to point out their banter, that was more Gwaine’s part – who, of course, would have done so accompanied by several _ladies_ and _princesses_ – but they all tried to fill the holes that had been ripped into their group. Arthur sighed and schooled his expression back into his pleasant court mask. Merlin seemed to have caught on too because he answered just a bit too cheerfully: “Arthur’s accusing me of cheating at dice.”  
  
Percival snickered and Leon rolled his eyes. “Everybody knows you’re cheating, Merlin. We just don’t know how you do it; otherwise we would all try and relieve his Highness of some of his coins.”  
  
After a moment of absolute silence, in which Arthur must have stared at his senior knight with the most dumbfounded expression, Merlin exploded into a fit of laughter next to him. He clapped Arthur on the shoulder in a mock sympathetic fashion but still continued chuckling unabashedly.  
  
Was everybody turning into Gwaine now? Arthur felt his features contorting into a grimace. It was almost as if the man was still alive. He had to supress another sigh and directed a warning glare into Merlin’s direction when a rustling sound to their right caught his attention. He stilled, subconsciously raising his hand for a silent command, the knights immediately alert.

Their eyes roamed over the greenery and Arthur could feel the tension already thick in the air. He exhaled. The roaring shout from the bandits’ hideout followed only a heartbeat later. They crawled out from under the bushes, their weapons already drawn, as grim and dirty looking as always.  
  
“Give us all your money and nobody dies!” the biggest of them yelled, his eyes bloodshot and anxiously waving his sword about. Arthur felt compelled to raise an eyebrow at the speaker. As if that ever happened. Did they really not know who they were trying to rob here? He threw a short glance in the directions of his knights, who seemed equally amused, then lifted his hands in mock surrender, “alright”.  
  
The bandits eyed him warily and exchanged a few nervous looks as he got off his horse, seemingly unfastening the clasp of his purse, before he grabbed his sword in one swift motion and stormed towards the speaker. The man was down before he even realized what had happened.

It was the signal for the rest of the knights. They jumped from their horses and were upon their attackers within the blink of an eye. Merlin stayed seated though. Experience must have taught him that a higher position allowed for a better vantage point.  
  
Arthur observed his behaviour from the corner of his eyes. He knew he should focus all of his attention on the fight, but knowing his manservant’s not so subtle movements had a totally different meaning than what he had thought so far changed everything. The tilt of his head, the silent muttering of words, the curt gestures of his hands; they weren’t the pointless warnings of a defenceless man but powerful spells and incantations of a dangerous sorcerer, who – and Arthur still had the occasional trouble believing it – was actually protecting them.  
  
Arthur blocked a blow aimed at his head. Next to him a heavy tree branch crashed to the ground and knocked the bandit unconscious. It made Arthur want to roll his eyes. The falling branches really should have aroused his suspicion sooner. It happened by far too often to be coincidental. He needed to have a word about that with Merlin, later, because right now there was a gang of outlaws to defeat.  
  
He sprinted over to Bedivere, who was under attack by several of them. He knocked the first one down with the hilt of his sword and engaged the second and third one in an exchange of blows.  
Around him the wind picked up. He had never noticed it before but the leaves and dirt carried along with it obscured his adversaries’ view while they clearly avoided him. A smirk danced over his features as he next bandit went down.

Arthur whirled around right in time to hear Merlin shriek as he was pulled off of his horse. His attackers had obviously snuck up from behind and Arthur felt a pang of fear run through his body. His eyes frantically searched for Percival, who was already halfway across the path to throw himself between Merlin and the bandits, while Arthur pushed through his own throng of people. He used his elbows to make way and shoved bandits and knights aside in equal measure.  
  
Merlin’s group was a skirmish of bodies and arms and the fact that he couldn’t make out his stupid servant between them made Arthur tense. He smashed a nose in and pushed another body away all the while scanning for Merlin and holding his breath. Only when two of the bandits stumbled out of the melee, collided with each other as if on strings and fell to the ground lifelessly could Arthur finally relax a little.

The danger wasn’t over though - far from it - but he now saw a black mop of hair moving about relentlessly.  
“Merlin,” he shouted.  
The other man turned and nodded reassuringly. Arthur wanted to nod back but something crashed into him. He lost balance and fell to the ground. From somewhere far away he could hear Merlin’s frantic cry of his name before everything went dark.

* * *

 

“He’s waking up,” he heard a muffled voice say. Arthur groaned. He felt a throbbing pain in his side and his hand flew to clutch the wound before he could think twice about it.  
  
“Don’t move, you reckless turniphead!” A hand grabbed his and pulled it away, quite ungently he might add. He squinted and recognized the outlines of Merlin with Leon sitting next to him.  
  
“Welcome back, sire,” Leon greeted with a strained smile, “seems like you got quite the nasty bashing there, but Merlin assures me that it’s only a bruise.”

Only a bruise? As if! He was pretty sure he had been run through, again. His face contorted into a grimace. Merlin coughed and gave a little exaggerated nod. “Nothing to worry about. But considering your last near death experience was only a little over a week ago, we really shouldn’t tempt the gods again so soon.”  
  
Leon seemed to agree and got up. “I’ll go and give the others the all-clear sign.” He left with an inclination of his head, obviously fully aware that now that Arthur was awake a conversation between him and his manservant was in order.

“Merlin,” Arthur sighed, “what happened? And no wishy-washy excuses, understood?!”  
Merlin raised an eyebrow and lent back with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Well, I wasn’t intending on giving you any kind of wishy-washy excuse because it wasn’t me who nearly got himself killed,” he said and shot Arthur a pointed glare. “Really, what the hell were you doing? It isn’t like you to get distracted during a fight.”

Arthur huffed but had to avert his eyes. He didn’t like admitting it but Merlin was right, he really had let himself be distracted.

“I was watching you,” he tried to sound reproachful but failed quite miserably.  
  
“Yes, I noticed. But why would you do that? I – “ he took a breath and quickly checked the entrance of the tent, “I don’t need saving, Arthur. I really can take care of myself.”  
  
“Habit,” Arthur mumbled and tried to push himself up. The spot where he had been injured still hurt but when he lifted the bandages his skin was unmarred. He looked up at Merlin, astonished.  
“You healed me? But I thought you couldn’t…”  
Merlin scratched at his hairline, his expression turning sheepish, “Yeah but that was different. Mordred’s sword was poisonous because it was forged in a dragon’s breath, but this was just normal steel. So, no big deal.”  
  
“No big deal?” Arthur repeated. “How many times have you healed me before?”  
He stared at Merlin, who started fidgeting nervously under it. “Errr, I’m not sure. Quite a few I guess.”  
  
Arthur took a deep breath and shook his head disbelievingly before he reached his hand out to have Merlin help him get up. They left the tent with Arthur’s arm still slung over Merlin’s shoulder, but the king immediately distanced himself from his servant when the knights came into view. ~~~~  
  
He gave his men a few encouraging nods, making sure they all saw that he was fine and not seriously injured. Since the sun was already setting, it made little sense to continue their journey through the night. They would keep their make-shift camp until the morning and then saddle up again.  
Arthur exchanged a few words here and there and inquired how the others had fared against their attackers. It turned out that after he had blacked out the few remaining robbers had quickly turned tail and fled, recognizing their inferiority.  
  
“So what do you think, sire? The rest of Morgana’s men?” Leon wondered and Arthur rubbed his chin. He had already asked himself the same question.  
“I doubt it. Their armour and weaponry was of too poor a quality to be of Saxon origin. No, they rather strike me as the average highwaymen.”  
  
Next to him Percival entered their little circle, his broad arms folded over his chest. He was frowning. “Then why attack a royal patrol? They must have recognized the crest of Camelot.”  
The others nodded in agreement. While they got attacked on quite a frequent basis during their numerous quests, it seemed foolishly audacious to single out the knights of the kingdom that had just won a war.

“Simple despair?” Arthur mused and recalled the nervous look on the first bandit’s face. “They looked even more rugged than what usually crawls these woods. And after the war food is still rationed, so if they engage in any kind of trade, the outlying villages are certainly less willing to provide than before.”  
The knights shrugged in agreement, obviously satisfied by this attempt at an explanation, only Merlin didn’t say anything. His gaze was fixed on the ground, something thoughtful lingering behind his eyes.

“I think we need some more fire wood to get us through the night,” Arthur nodded towards his men who immediately took the hint and broke up their little circle.  
  
“Merlin,” he grabbed the other man by the upper arm, “how about supper?”  
Merlin raised an eyebrow in mock indignation. “Getting knocked out must have left you hungry, Sire.”  
“It has indeed.” He smiled a strained smile and pulled Merlin over to the fire pit. “So, and now spill it.”  
Merlin looked at him with a frown. “Spill what exactly?”  
  
Arthur felt the need to roll his eyes at his servant’s mental sluggishness but instead threw a short glance over his shoulder to check if all the knights were out of hearing range. _“_ The bandits. You had that look on your face.“  
Merlin shrugged, “I don’t know any more than you do. It’s really just a feeling that something was off about that attack, but that’s all.” He shook his head apologetically and started rummaging for the pots and plates next to the fire place instead. Arthur felt weirdly unsatisfied by the answer.

“You say that a lot recently,” he mumbled, observing Merlin as he started chopping vegetables into the pot.

* * *

 

Merlin dragged the used pots and dishes over the little stream not far away from their camp. To say he was disgruntled was an understatement. He dumped them with a clank and crouched down, groaning. Not that anybody would have heard it, the king and his knights were all too busy laughing and sharing stories to bother helping little old Merlin with cleaning up. He snorted and wiped an unruly strand of hair out of his face before he dunked the first pot in the water, which immediately resulted in an ice cold wave of water all over his tunic.  
  
“Bugger,” he threw his head back and took a deep breath.

This really wasn’t his day, despite it starting quite well. He had actually slept well. That really had been an improvement. His eyes wandered to the bracelet still dangling from his wrist. He shook his head and decided to take it off. Something just told him that royal jewellery probably would take well to doing servant’s work. He slipped it over his hand and placed it next to him. Somewhere behind him he could hear the knights cheering. As if there was reason to cheer. He grunted to himself and started scrubbing.

“Doing all the hard work, I see.”

His head snapped around. Percival was approaching, a grin on his face. Merlin huffed but smiled back. “Of course, you lazy knights are useless.” Percival chuckled and crouched down next to him. Without much ado he grabbed a plate and started scrubbing too. Merlin sent a little grateful nod in his direction.

After a few moments of comfortable silence with only the babbling of the brook and their working hands Percival looked up. “So what is this all about, this quest?”  
“What do you mean?” Merlin asked innocently but not fooling anybody with his gaze fixed too firmly on the task at hand. Percival sighed and Merlin felt like joining.  
“Look, we all know there’s something neither Arthur nor you is telling us. Something about what happened at Avalon.”

Merlin didn’t answer immediately; he had to contemplate the question first. Should he tell Percival? That would include coming clean about him being a sorcerer and Merlin still felt reluctant about that – and a little voice supplied that King Prat would probably wish to be consulted on the matter first.  
He took a deep breath. “It’s complicated. I wasn’t willing to let Arthur die, so I might have done something stupid.”

Percival looked at him quizzically. “That wouldn’t be the first time, Merlin. So how is this mess worse than the countless other ones before?”  
  
“Because this one has come back to haunt me – us, all of us. It’s…,” he struggled and grimaced, “maybe… we assume that the disappearances in Camelot may be a side effect. There’s even a chance that the death of the girl with missing tongue is connected.”  
  
Percival’s eyes went wide, but then he nodded and handed over the last of cleaned plates.  
“I see,” he grabbed Merlin’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, “then we’ll fix this, like we always do.” Merlin swallowed but nodded.

They divided the pots and plates equally among then and carried them back to the camp. It had got silent by now and most of the knights had retreated to their makeshift beds, leaving only Leon, who was sitting on a log staring into the fire.  
  
“Arthur’s in the tent,” he remarked without really looking up when they approached. Merlin said a short good-night to them and made for the king’s night-quarters. Normally he wouldn’t sleep inside the tent but as Arthur was still supposed to be recovering, the apprentice physician’s presence wasn’t questioned. He opened the flap and saw Arthur with his back towards him. For a moment he considered saying something but then decided against it. If Arthur was still awake and wanted to talk he only needed to do so. He pulled off his boots and quickly climbed under the covers. It had been a long day and he was still not entirely over his many nights of restlessness, so just going to sleep without another discussion didn’t seem that unappealing. He closed his eyes and let the darkness engulf him.

* * *

 

 _There were footsteps in the darkness, heavy breathing and mumbled words._  
  
_He scanned his surroundings. The forest was dark and dense but that didn’t bother him. Overhead the full moon lighted his way, and he knew exactly where he was going…_

_…following the voices, following the prey._

_The dry leaves barely crackled under his feet and the tree branches made way for his passage. The forest accommodated him but he expected nothing less, he was the forest after all._

_The light of their fire flickered through the trees, casting shadows and whispers in his direction. He observed them as they were talking, their rough voices grating on his nerves. They weren’t really worthy of his attention but tolerating their failure seemed even less appealing._  
  
_He stalked closer, his cloak gliding soundlessly over the ground._

_He reached out his hand. Pale and long-fingered, with nails too sharp and pointy as to pretend he was anything but dangerous. But mortals only saw what they wanted to see. They hadn’t noticed it when they had shaken his hand and sealed the deal, and they weren’t going to notice it now._

_With a simple movement of his hand the branches and leaves cleared the way for him. The bandits turned their heads toward him, fear apparent on their twisted, ugly features._  
  
_Most of them recoiled when he stepped into the light of their fire. Its warmth danced over his pale skin, yet it couldn’t entirely obscure the cold blue tinge that clung to it. He felt a grin tugging at the corner of his lips._

_“What did I tell you about injuring the king?”_

_They cringed, only their leader brave enough to actually face him. He tried for nonchalance when he shrugged and grumbled that for a famed warrior king the fight had been pretty weak._

_Laughter bubbled out of him and the bandits regarded him with cold dread written in their faces. When he abruptly stopped even the leader took a step back._

_“That doesn’t matter. It wasn’t what we had agreed on.”_

_He approached, penetrating the sweating, fidgeting man’s space. Circling him and studying him, until he finally reached out and put his pale, thin fingers around his throat. The bandit gulped while the rest of the cowardly bunch scrambled away, yelping and screaming._

_He felt his own features contort into a grimace. “We’re not done here.”_  
  
_He held out his other hand and one of the closest fleeing bandits immediately stilled. His body snapped into a rigid vertical position and turned around as if on strings. He studied the poor lad’s face._  
  
_Young but already tired, ashen complexion, dirty blond hair. Nothing special, but it would have to do._  
  
_The boy’s empty eyes were focused on nothing, while he turned back to the leader. His hand was still like an iron vice around his throat. “I do not tolerate failure.”_

 _“Please,” the man rattled, “we lost a lot of men, the knights were too strong.”_  
  
_He shook his head, feeling a spark of satisfaction running through him when his hand travelled upwards and dug into the robber’s stinking mouth, gripping his babbling, swollen tongue._  
  
_“I don’t want to hear any excuses. I gave you a very simple task: Get the bracelet but don’t hurt the king or his servant. But even that seems too much for you and your rotten bunch.”_

 _The robber’s eyes were tearing up now. He obviously wanted to plead but couldn’t._  
  
_The boy next to them didn’t react, still utterly enveloped by the spell that suppressed his will. The way he was so absolutely still was almost a bit unnerving. He decided to cut it short and ripped._

 _A scream – no, not a real scream more a guttural moan, squishy and voiceless – tore through the man. He fell to the ground, writhing and moaning._  
  
_He observed it from above while the boy still stared into space. Then with a flick of his wrist something snapped and the robber stilled. Carelessly he discarded the severedtongue into the bushes, no need for the disgusting thing anymore. When he started walking away the boy followed him._

 _“Where are we going?” the boy asked._  
  
_He felt a smile spread over his face. “To the land of eternal youth.”_

* * *

“Merlin! Merlin, wake up!” Someone was shaking him. The blurry contours of Arthur’s face moved into focus. He looked worried. Merlin rubbed his bleary eyes.  
  
“You had a nightmare, again.” There was something reproachful underneath the statement.  
“A nightmare?” he repeated, still squinting at his surroundings.  
“Yes, you were mumbling and moaning. Merlin, why were you having a nightmare? I thought Morgana’s bracelet helped?”

Merlin still struggled with keeping up. Nightmare, Morgana’s bracelet?  
He stared at Arthur and tried to make sense of all of this. Morgana’s bracelet… then it clicked into place. He jumped up and stumbled out of the tent. Arthur yelled after him.

Oh god, where was the bracelet? His eyes scanned the leafy ground frantically. He still had had it yesterday, but what happened then? The brook! He had washed the dishes there, he had taken it off. He hurried over to the little stream, ignoring the morning greetings and confused looks from the knights, and practically jumped when he saw it glinting in the sunlight. A black bird sat on the other side of the brook, crowing reproachfully when Merlin took it up and slipped it over his wrist with trembling fingers.

How could he have forgotten the darn thing?!

Behind him he heard Arthur’s footsteps, approaching rapidly. “You left it out here? How can you leave it out here?”  
Merlin ignored him, absent-mindedly stroking the delicate patterns of the engraving. He got up while Arthur still ranted on and mumbled a half-hearted “I’m not used to wearing jewellery”.  
  
Their bickering continued as they walked back to the camp, which earned them a few amused looks from the knights, who were already readying their horses. Soon it would be time to leave for Avalon.

* * *

 

“That was really one of your lamest excuses ever,” Arthur groused. Merlin ignored him and just continued walking straight ahead. He didn’t work well under pressure. Admittedly, claiming that the overturned tree trunk was some kind of marker from the old religion that only allowed believers passage was a bit far-fetched, but it had worked. Or rather, Arthur’s authoritative “wait here and secure the area” had, but that was a detail.

Merlin took a deep breath as they approached the lake. It was right in front of them and appeared just as eerily still as ever, so that even Arthur fell silent when they reached the shore.  
  
They both let themselves be captured by the atmosphere, their gazes wandering over the surface into the distance.  
“It’s a beautiful place,” Arthur mumbled.  
“It is.” Merlin agreed but after another moment of contemplation raised his hands. “Let’s summon the Sidhe then.”

Arthur nodded and took a step back. His eyes followed Merlin’s movement until he suddenly tensed and frowned. “Wasn’t there an island in the middle of the lake?”  
Merlin stopped in what he was doing, his gaze alternating between Arthur and that lake, where there was indeed no island. He lowered his hands with a dumbfounded expression.  
  
“This is really weird.”

Arthur snorted. “Shouldn’t you, for once, have a clue what’s going on? After all this is your turf. You…”  
“Arthur, shut up. I can’t concentrate when you keep interrupting me.”  
The king raised an eyebrow but silently signalled for Merlin to continue.  
  
“Thank you,” he retorted, obviously not grateful at all, and turned back to face the lake. In a calmer fashion he added: “I can ask the Sidhe what’s going on with their island once they answer my call.”

He started chanting and the wind picked up around them. The little waves lapping at the shoreline showed more agitation and the bird song around them died. They were waiting, but nothing more happened. Arthur observed Merlin, whose hands were still raised to the sky.  
After a minute he let them sink and the nature around them returned to normal.

“This is really weird.”  
“You said that before.”  
“Yes, because it is. They’re not answering.”

Arthur folded his arms in a very demonstrative gesture. “Do you have any idea what you’re actually doing?”

Merlin huffed, clearly offended, and started walking into the direction of a tethered boat. When he climbed in Arthur gave him a doubtful _have you completely lost it_ look.  
  
“We’re rowing out and check what going on with the lake,” he said and tossed Arthur one of the oars. Arthur eyed it a bit suspiciously but got in nonetheless.

After a few strokes and some effort to find a mutual rhythm they found themselves at a fair distance from the shore. “Islands don’t just vanish, Merlin.”  
“Believe it or not, Arthur, I’m actually aware of that.”  
  
He tried to get up again, awkwardly balancing the boat while reluctant to let go of the gunwale. Arthur eyed him derisively.  
“Is it actually necessary for you to be standing?”  
“It is.” Merlin very intently stared ahead, obviously trying not to fidget.  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
The boat swayed lightly and Arthur leant back, observing Merlin as his hands moved gracefully but utterly patternless through the air. _Magic_ , he wanted to snort.  
  
The wind around them picked up again and their vessel got carried along with the currents of water and air. It was quite a display. Not that Arthur would ever have admitted that. Merlin swayed along with the movements surrounding them, his gaze focused on all and nothing.  
  
“They’re really not here,” he then murmured. Arthur frowned.  
“What do you mean? How can they be _not here_? I thought this was their home?” He made an abrupt move into Merlin’s direction, shaking boat and waters alike. Merlin held up his hand, signalling for Arthur to be calm. “It’s…. I don’t know. It’s not what I expected.” He shook his head and then focused on Arthur. His expression was lost.

“How…” Arthur seemed hard pressed to find the right words, “what exactly did your deal with them include?” He questioningly gestured around them.  
Merlin grimaced, then slowly tried to lower himself back onto the little bench. The boat swayed dangerously.

“I told you, they were vague on the details.”  
“Yes, you told me.” He put his hand on Merlin’s knee and grabbed a bit too hard, “and by now I know that’s Idiot-speak for you’re evading me.”

“I really…” Merlin was looking everywhere but Arthur.  
“ _Mer_ lin”

He sighed then his shoulders slumped in obvious surrender. “Maybe they mentioned something about my soul,” he said tentatively.  
  
Arthur went very still. “Your soul? I thought you bartered your life?”  
  
“Well, as I said, they weren’t very clear what my soul implied. I really don’t know what it means or why they suddenly seem to be gone,” he gestured towards the water, fruitlessly trying to steer the conversation back to where it had originated and away from unholy pacts. He smiled a pained smile. Arthur frowned before his gaze focused on the other man again. There was something truly resentful in his eyes. “Merlin,” he said in a frighteningly calm fashion, “I’d strangle you, if I was sure your pitiful spirit wasn’t damned to an eternity in I don’t know what hell.”  
  
Merlin recoiled a little. “Thanks, I guess.”  
“I mean it, you… you moron! How could you do that?!” He smacked Merlin over the head, which led to rocking their boat some more and had them both gripping the gunwale. Funnily enough the smile on Merlin’s face looked much more genuine now.

“Arthur, I know you’re nervous and overwhelmed…” Arthur snorted, still clinging to the wood.  
“But don’t worry so much about me. I’ll be fine. I’m working on this.”  
“Yeah, I can see that, why else would we be out here with such a refined plan of how to proceed.”  
He let go of the wood and the boat shook some more as if to underline Arthur’s agitation.  
  
“We’ll find a way. We always do,” Merlin said, his fingers now touching the surface of the water. He splashed a few droplets into Arthur’s direction.  
“Don’t make light of the situation. People have vanished,” and after a pause he added, “islands have vanished.”  
  
Merlin nodded, throwing some more water at Arthur.

“Hey?! What do you think you’re doing?” He grabbed for Merlin’s wrist. The boat shook while they wrestled… then it keeled over.

When they came back up, Arthur was spluttering and Merlin could barely keep himself afloat from laughter. From the shoreline the knights were waving at them, one already knee-deep in the water. Merlin waved back and almost sunk again, and Arthur hollered a grumpy “we’re fine” over there.  
Then he tried to hit Merlin again and almost sunk himself. “This is all your fault!”

“Relax,” Merlin said while making a first and a rather clumsy stroke into the direction of the shore, “I have an idea.”  
“Oh, an idea? Where was your idea when we were still in the boat?” He overtook Merlin from the left and swam a few meters in front of him.  
“Well, it’s my standard plan B. I’ll tell you more once we have solid ground under our feet again.”  
  
He couldn’t see Arthur’s reaction but he was pretty sure there was some snorting involved.

“Alright then, but try not to drown before we reach the solid ground. I don’t want my next destination to be the underworld, where I have to save you from Death’s clutches.”  
Merlin chuckled and got a bit of water into his mouth. He coughed, “wouldn’t that be a great quest, Orpheus?”  
  
Arthur had reached the shore, stomping heavily towards one of the knights who held out his hand. Before he reached him though, he turned back towards Merlin. “You realise that would make you Eurydice?[1]” Merlin coughed some more, now finally with some ground under his feet, too. Obviously he hadn’t. Arthur strolled off with something like a smug grin on his face, while Merlin still stared after him, dumbfounded.

* * *

 

In retrospect, their little odyssey on the lake had led to two things: Fidgety knights and Arthur walking around topless. With his clothes drying on some low-hanging branch – and Merlin needed to stress that he had actually packed him some spares (he wasn’t _that_ bad of a manservant) – His Royal Highness obviously felt the need to make a manly display when it came to physical fitness. Merlin felt quite annoyed.

“Really, Arthur, wear a shirt! You’re going to catch a cold, and you know who’s going to get scolded by Gaius then – Me!”

Arthur only snickered. “Why Merlin, and there I thought you were worried about my health.” He stood in front of the flickering fire pit, which in combination with the setting sun drenched his skin in a glorious golden glow. Merlin felt his mouth turn a bit drier, before he could bring himself to shake his head and threw a shirt at Arthur. “Get dressed,” he muttered.

They had set up camp not far from the lake. As its waters were apparently as unmagical nowadays as those of the Camelot citadel fountains, they had seen no particular danger in doing so. Still, it left them at a bit of an impasse as it wasn’t entirely clear where to go from here. Merlin hadn’t got the chance to talk to Arthur about his plan B yet, and the knights – especially Leon – were quite worried about the newest ill-advised adventure of their liege.

“There are too many people here,” Arthur whispered while pulling the white linen shirt over his head. Merlin nodded, “I doubt Leon will let you out of his sight now.” He poked the coals in the fire.

“Well, I might have an answer to that little problem.” Merlin frowned as Arthur waved Leon over.

“Sir Leon,” it was never a good sign when Arthur addressed his knights with Sir. It immediately made the other man straighten up.  
  
“I need a favour,” he threw a quick glance in Merlin’s direction. “My sister breathed her last somewhere around this area. Despite out ill-fated relationship, I’d like to pay my respects.” He put a hand on Leon’s shoulder and whispered in a conspiratorial manner, “so I’d appreciate it if you could make sure we get some privacy.”

“Of course, Sire!” Leon was in full on loyal vassal mode, Merlin almost saw him saluting before his inner eye. And while the pretext obviously worked, Merlin couldn't help having some mixed feeling about it. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face the consequences of his actions when it came to Morgana – though he had never really been. He supressed a sigh and got up while Arthur clapped Leon’s back a bit too strongly and stomped off.

Merlin followed him at an appropriate distance until they were far enough from the camp not to be overheard. “In which direction now?” Arthur asked.  
Merlin raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want to go to Morgana’s grave?”  
Arthur sighed and combed a hand through his hair before he lowered his gaze sheepishly. “Yes, kind of. My memory of what happened is a bit hazy but I know it was around here, wasn’t it?”  
Merlin nodded wordlessly but then slowly started moving again. “Up that hill,” he muttered. Behind him he heard Arthur following.

“So, how far is it?” Arthur asked after a while. It had become significantly darker around them now that the sun was down. “I’m not entirely sure,” Merlin admitted, suspiciously checking their surroundings before invoking a light.  
“How are you not sure? You dragged me around here after I passed out.” His eyes followed the shimmering sphere as it floated above their heads.  
“That’s exactly the point; you passed out and I was a bit too busy with checking up on you instead of paying a lot of attention to where we were going,” Merlin retorted, but there was clearly something snappy in his tone. His footfalls also seemed louder on the soft forest ground. Arthur observed the tense line of Merlin’s back. There was something coming…

“Besides, we didn’t exactly walk.”

Arthur stopped. Merlin turned around and implied with an urgent nod to continue walking but Arthur ignored him. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, a frown edged into his face.

"It's complicated," he said, Arthur’s stare boring into his back all the while. “I kinda had help,” he finally admitted.

"Help? By another sorcerer?"

"No, well yes, it's really complicated." Merlin trudged on, now clearly avoiding to look back at Arthur. The tension was palpable, but with only the sounds of the night and their footsteps between them, Merlin knew he couldn’t stall any longer.

"I called the dragon," he finally admitted.

The steps behind him quieted and Merlin saw himself forced to turn around. He took a deep breath and faced his king. The look on Arthur's face was mostly confused, but at the edges it was fraying. There was livid anger underneath the lack of understanding just waiting to break through.

"What exactly are you telling me?"

"I... I don't know how to say this," Merlin's gaze trailed down to Arthur's hands that had become tense fists, clenching and unclenching unconsciously.  
He took a deep breath. "The great dragon is still alive and he helped me save you."

Arthur swung at him. Merlin let him.

The punch sent him sprawling to the soft forest ground. He stayed down after Arthur had furiously started rounding him, pacing back and forth, obviously unsure whether he thought the sorcerer deserved more of his punishment.

"Do you have any idea how many people died back then?!" he hissed through clenched teeth. "And now you tell me the beast is still alive! I can't believe you Merlin!" He gestured wildly into the night, his breathing rapid and heavy.

"He's not a threat anymore," Merlin retorted meekly. "I made sure of that."

"Oh, you made sure of that!" He turned away from the fallen man, angrily kicking some leaves, his body writing his anger into their surroundings. Merlin observed him quietly. It would have been pointless to say more at this moment, to make attempts at explaining or apologizing.

"Does it ever end, Merlin?" Arthur was back, staring down at him. For a second it seemed as if he wanted to reach out a hand and help the other man up, but then he changed his mind and instead just eyed him warily.

"I don't know," Merlin answered down-cast, but still scrambled back to his feet. "With time everything will reveal itself."

"Spare me the enigmatic speeches, they really don't become you." They were words merely uttered to hurt, Merlin knew that, but he still couldn’t help feeling the blow. Ironically it hurt more than the physical one.

"I'm sorry," he said. Arthur didn't look at him and instead started walking away. Merlin stayed where he was but sent a second light after Arthur, so that he wouldn't get lost in the dark. His retreating footsteps made his heart ache. _One more secret down, and still so many left to tell._

He listened into the night. Arthur was gone, though for once Merlin knew that he couldn’t follow and that the king had to sort out his feelings on his own.

Feeling weary, he slumped down onto the damp soil once more and folded his legs underneath himself. The forest around him more silent than it was supposed to be. It made Merlin nervous. Or maybe it was that after Arthur's outburst everything seemed deafeningly silent, he didn't know. Still, he tried to listen. There was the rustling of the leaves, the almost soundless dribbling of water, the clicking and scratching of animal paws. Merlin hoped it would ground him and make the gnawing feelings in his chest recede. It almost worked until the snapping sound of a twig made him whirl around.

His hand was up and the magic was surging through his veins. He was ready to attack, but there was nobody. He stared at the bushes, dumbfounded. Then a voice snickered…

Merlin flinched. There behind the trees was someone, and it most certainly wasn't Arthur.  
He stared. The figure drew closer, though still hard to make out in the flickering light. Merlin brought himself into fighting stance. He didn't know if it was necessary but something told him that he wouldn't like what was about to happen.

Then he saw her. She wore a long red cloak, though the night and mortality had rendered it almost grey. "Hello Emrys," she said and her voice sounded like something from out of this world, hoarse yet piercing at the same time.

"Hello Morgana," he answered.

"I see you received my gift." The last word was almost indistinguishable, swallowed up by the static between the worlds. But Merlin understood. Involuntarily he touched the bracelet on his wrist.

"How?" It was the only thing he could ask.

"I'm here, I'm there," she shrugged, "I still hold some power, even from beyond the veil. I am a high priestess of the old religion after all."

Her words made Merlin cringe inwardly, which didn't escape Morgana's keen gaze. "I'm not here to fight you, Merlin."  
  
The mention of his name certainly had effect. It made him relax, not much though.  
"What do you want then?"

She studied him. Her eyes held something hungry, something that fed on his pain. "To help. And to see how Arthur makes you pay for all your sins… but mostly to help." She grinned and Merlin felt himself shudder.

"It was quite a display how he left you standing here in the dark. He really knows how to throw a tantrum, always did, that sweet brother of mine."

Merlin took a deep breath. "What do you want, Morgana?” he repeated.

"I told you: to help you dimwit to get out of the mess you got yourself into. And in the meantime enjoy the show while Arthur discovers every single one of the pretty little lies that you told him over the years. I really hope he drags you to that torture chamber again."

Merlin squeaked and reeled backwards. "How do you know that?"

"Here and there," she singsonged while her pale gaze practically drank in Merlin's blushing embarrassment. "Maybe next time you should offer him to ..." Merlin coughed pointedly.

Morgana snickered but then quickly took on a more serious expression. "I came to warn you about the Sidhe. You released them from Avalon, but I'm sure you noticed."

Merlin felt a chill spreading over him and only nodded silently.

"They and their new king are also leeching off of your powers, that’s how they were able to cross the barrier between the worlds."

"What? But how is that possible?"

Morgana gave him an unimpressed look and her appearance flickered in the dim light. "The constant weariness and the nightmares really should have been a clue..." again, her voice was drowned by the static. Merlin could see her lips move but there was no sound. He raised his hand and tried to send some energy in the apparition's direction. It had a stabilizing effect yet Morgana appeared slightly miffed about it.

"You really are simple-minded. I can't believe you are Emrys, the Emrys," her voice wavered again and Merlin tried to focus it but it didn’t have the desired effect anymore.

"....such a disappointment," she gestured, and Merlin didn't need to hear it all to get the context.

"What about the missing people?" he asked rather distractedly, still trying to channel the witch's voice better.

"They're sacrifices, of course."

"And for what exactly?”

Morgana answered, her lips moving soundlessly once again. Merlin waved his hand but only a flicker in her appearance was the answer. Then she was gone completely.  
A frustrated sigh escaped him. Of course he would lose her when she was about to reveal some important information. He rubbed his forehead. Somehow he could feel a headache approaching.

From somewhere he heard footstep. Arthur was coming back. He didn’t look particularly pleased but at least he made no further attempt to punch him. Merlin considered that progress right now.  
“Did you find the grave?”  
  
The king nodded, and Merlin refrained from imploring further whether he had found what he had been looking for.

“It was gracious of you to mark it.”

Merlin had to hold back a frown, because actually he hadn’t. Morgana’s ghost flickered into his perception again right behind Arthur. She grinned and mouthed the words “followers”, which certainly aggravated the need in Merlin to massage his forehead.

Arthur turned and followed Merlin’s pained gaze. “Is there someone?”  
  
Merlin only shook his head.

End of Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Greek mythology 101: Orpheus and Eurydice were lovers. She died, so he descended into the underworld and stroke a deal with Hades. He was allowed to bring her back under the condition that he wouldn’t turn around and look at her while leaving the underworld. Unfortunately, he did exactly that and lost her… poor guy.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no real excuse for how long that took, again>_>''  
> Except for maybe being a bit down about how little response the last chapter generated. 
> 
> Comments really help boosting my motivation!

The next morning was crisp and calm, and it utterly belied Merlin’s restless mood. 

He hadn’t slept, but this time it wasn’t nightmares that had kept him up but the swirling thoughts concerning Morgana’s warning. Arthur’s stony silence was another aspect that factored into it. The knights had noticed it too when they had got back the night before. Percival had even thrown him an inquisitive look but Merlin could only shrug it off.

So they readied their horses in more tense silence. Occasionally there was a hushed whisper and another quizzical stare directed at Merlin or their king – mostly at Merlin though. It made him sigh inwardly and for a moment he felt the image of Gwaine flare up before his inner eye, patting him on the back and teasingly commenting on their _lover’s tiff_. He felt the corners of his lips curl upwards and some of the tension left his shoulders.

He looked over to Arthur’s tent. The man was packing up their weapons and simultaneously shooed his squire Liam around to hurry up. As such it was business as usual and Merlin felt he should get back to the horses too, when he heard Arthur asking:  
  
“Where’s Jorah? I haven’t seen him yet.”

It made Merlin look up and a feeling of cold dread immediately settled back in his stomach. He hadn’t seen the boy today either. Around him the knights stopped in what they we’re doing too. Looks we’re exchanged and then swords we’re drawn.  
  
“I seems nobody has seen him today, Sire,” Leon finally remarked.

The knights, now fully alert, formed a circle around their camp. Two of them swarmed out to search for the missing lad but so far without any success. The rest carefully observed their surroundings, ready for an attack. Percival even shuffled Merlin away from the horses and into the secure centre of the group. It was knightly training in its perfection, but it was pointless, and they knew it. The boy was already lost.

Behind him Arthur had grabbed Liam’s shoulder. “When have you last seen him?”  
He shook the squire harder than necessary, but it emphasized what they all were thinking.

“Last night, Sire. He went to bed when I did. When he wasn’t here this morning, I just thought he had got up to take a leak, or something,” the boy replied with wide eyes. Arthur let go of him.

“Who was on guard duty during the night?” A few hands went up.  
“If the boy had left the camp during the night, someone would have noticed.”

Arthur studied the faces of his men with severe intention but they only averted their gazes or shook their heads dejectedly. Then he focused on Merlin.

Merlin felt his stare bore into him, violently, reproachfully. It was hard to look back, because he agreed with Arthur, somebody should have seen him. But even he, the great sorcerer, the one that had laid awake half the night, had no idea what had happened. So almost indiscernibly he shook his head too.

Arthur turned around vehemently. “It’s following us!”

“What do you mean, Sire?” Leon asked, as so often the first to recover from their liege’s outburst.

“The thing that’s abducting the firstborns in Camelot.”

The answer had the knights all tensing up again immediately. “You mean….”  
“We need to decimate the group,” Arthur interrupted harshly and pointed to Liam. “Pack everything! The Sirs Bedivere, Galahad, Geraint and Kay will accompany you back to Camelot.”

It took only a heartbeat for a rush of dissent to break out. “Sire…. Sire, you can’t…. we will not abandon…”

Arthur raised his hand and commanded silence with one simple gesture. He looked at his men with an earnest expression before he spoke in an almost solemn tone:  
“The purpose of this quest was and still is to end the mysterious disappearances that have plagued Camelot for the last week. We were able to discover that the targets of these abductions are all firstborns of a certain age. However, now that one of our innermost circle was taken, we have to conclude that the events are not restricted to Camelot alone but follow us around,” he gestured to himself, “which means that no firstborn in this group is safe.”

He saw some of his men swallow nervously.

“So the only natural cause of action is to reduce the danger by sending potential victims home and only have secondborns undertake this quest.”  
  
“Sire,” Leon stepped forward, “all of the knights are firstborns. It was always one of the requirements under your father’s command.” Arthur nodded, he had known of course.  
  
“All, except me,” Percival said and took position next to Leon. He folded his arms over his strong chest expectantly.  
“Then, Percival, please join us,” Arthur gestured towards Merlin and himself, “the rest will leave for Camelot.”

Another wave of indignation broke over the knights. “Sire, I refuse to leave you alone… why is the servant boy allowed to join...? This isn’t safe…”

Leon and Percival too regarded their king with very serious expressions. “Arthur,” Leon said softly, “we will under no circumstances let you go on some insane quest without the proper protection. We swore loyalty and we swore to protect you and the kingdom, no matter the cost. We will not leave you, even if that makes us targets.” Percival nodded in agreement. Behind them Bedivere approached and clapped both of them on their backs. He sent Arthur an exaggerated grin.

Arthur shook his head in defeat, even though it was obvious that his men’s actions touched him more than he wanted to admit. “Alright, Leon, Percival and Bedivere with me. The rest returns to Camelot. Protect the citadel and make sure no more people go missing.”

The knights muttered their assent. Several of them were quite obviously displeased about not belonging to the chosen group, but they didn’t dare to confront their king as openly as the others had done. Which, however, didn’t keep them from sending dirty looks in Merlin’s direction, who shrunk a bit under the unwanted attention. Under normal circumstances Merlin would have played it down and made a joke that Arthur was otherwise incapable of taking care of himself and his belongings, but today he felt it wouldn’t be well-received. He stroked the horse’s mane while the others finished their packing and waited.

* * *

They were heading north-west, towards the mountains. In accordance to the generally tense mood the weather had also decided to play against them and a constant drizzle had accompanied them since they had started their journey that morning. It wasn’t really an issue as long as the leaves of the woods had sheltered them, but now they were out in the open even the light rain succeeded at soaking through their clothes. It left them grumpy and silent. Or maybe grumpier and even more silent.

Merlin observed Arthur’s back as he was riding in front of them. He led the group, as always, but it was still Merlin who had decided what their next destination was going to be. The knights hadn’t asked, they followed, as they always did.

“If my memory doesn’t deceive me, we should soon come upon the town of Sol,” Sir Bedivere said. The man, obviously least acquainted with the dynamics between the king and his manservant, had initially tried to uphold a conversation and speculated in a far too cheerful manner about what kind of grand adventures this newest quest would bring. When nobody reacted to his badly-timed jests, he eventually fell into a sulky silence too.

“Then, I think we should call it an early night and seek refuge in an…,” Leon conceded, but Arthur interrupted him with a harsh gesture. “We can’t! Staying in a populated area would endanger the people.” He threw the both a stern look.  
  
“But Sire, we don’t know with what kind of radius the culprit operates or what exactly the targeted profile is, apart from being young and firstborn. Maybe just passing the village is enough to bring it up on the kidnapper’s radar or maybe he’s really only interested in us…” Leon said _us_ , but it was clear that he meant _you_ when he looked at his king.

Percival rode up next to him. “Yes, we should use the chance to replenish our food supplies and let the horses rest. Merlin, what do you say?” It was clearly an attempt to have him talk some sense into Arthur, which sometimes worked and sometimes didn’t. Merlin felt that today Arthur would tend towards the latter.

He tentatively focused on Arthur. “So far we assumed that every night a sacrifice gets taken,” he saw the knights perk up their ears over his use of the term _sacrifice,_ but he continued anyway, “there wasn’t always someone missing we noticed though. Which probably means our immediate proximity isn’t that important but works more as a general direction… a road to follow. The kidnapper doesn’t want to be caught after all.”

“Then that’s exactly what we should do!” Bedivere butted in. The heads of the others turned in his direction and Arthur had a noticeable frown of his face. “We should use the opportunity and make it a trap for the culprit. Now that we know that he’s following us, we really got the chance to prevent something bad from happening. Sol is a small town, we can oversee and patrol it easily, it’s ideal. We just wait for him to strike and then we have him. Problem solved, quest successfully concluded.” Bedivere’s gaze quickly flickered from one knight to the other, his eagerness obvious in the way his expressive hands were still caught mid-air. He tried really hard. _Sometimes even a bit too hard_ , Merlin thought. Though he had to admit that under normal circumstances this would have been a feasible plan. The style and recklessness even reminded him a bit of Arthur. Merlin’s gaze shifted to his king.

Arthur studied the young knight but didn’t say anything.  
  
“We have to start somewhere,” Merlin supplied softly, hoping he wasn’t misinterpreting Arthur’s unpredictable mood. “Staying in the village will give us better defence than just waiting in the woods to be attacked.”

Arthur obviously didn’t like that answer, as the deepened frown on his face showed. “It will also provide the kidnapper with better defence,” he retorted coldly, but then something within him seemed to settle and his rigid posture slackened a little bit.

With a shake of his head he focused on Bedivere. “Alright, Sir Bedivere as this is you plan, I want you to take Sir Percival, ride ahead and make arrangements in a local inn. Then scout the northern perimeters of the village. We will do the same upon approach with the southern perimeters.” Bedivere nodded eagerly and was already about to grab Percival, when Arthur added: “And please remember to proceed with caution. We don’t want to be recognized as knights of Camelot here.”

“Of course, Sire,” he patted the soaked black cloak they had all thrown over their usual reds and golds and headed off. The remaining trio stared after them for a while.

“Do you think this is a good plan, Sire?” Leon asked carefully.  
Arthur didn’t answer immediately, instead he spurred his horse and the other two followed.  
“At least it is a plan,” he finally retorted with a not very discreet glance over to Merlin, who raised his eyebrows in a silent challenge. Leon nodded in understanding, while their horses trotted along.

Sol was already visible at the horizon, so they let their eyes scan the soft, hilly landscape, not really expecting to see something suspicious. After all, their kidnapper had proven to be more of the nocturnal kind.

When they entered the village the sun was still up but barely visible behind the thick grey clouds. It made everything darker and somewhat gloomier. Sol wasn’t a bad place but with the rain it appeared depressingly bland. They let their eyes roam over the little houses with their barren windows. Here and there suspicious eyes were peeking back at them.

The local guesthouse wasn’t exactly hard to spot. It was one of the only two-story houses and carried the rather unimaginative name _The Blue Sky_. Bedivere was waiting in front of the building and waving at them.  
“Everything seems in order so far, Sire,” he reported dutifully.  
Arthur got down from his mare and clapped the man on his shoulder. “That is good to hear, but remember the part about discretion. Call me Arthur for the time of our stay here.”  
He entered the inn and the rest of the band followed dutifully. “Of course, S-Arthur.”  
Merlin almost felt a bit sorry for the guy, almost.

“I got us three rooms with two beds each, because I wasn’t sure if H- Arthur preferred to have more space or wanted to have Merlin with him.”  
“I want to have Merlin with me,” he answered drily and started towards the inn keeper, who was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “The three of you can haggle over who gets the big room.”

Percival clapped Leon on the shoulder. “I think we can share.” The followed Arthur without another look at the slightly overwhelmed Bedivere.  
  
The inn keeper showed them their rooms and left them with a gruff “dinner’s at sundown.” Then the door closed behind them and it was the first time since they had returned from their grave site visit that the king and his manservant had only each other for company.

Part of Merlin was a little surprised Arthur had still insisted on sharing a room, but after all someone had to take care of the king’s fickle royal needs. With a supressed sigh Merlin approached him and started undoing the buckles and straps of Arthur’s many layers without further comment. At least this was something he knew without doubt how to handle.  
Arthur let him and only gave a little hum when Merlin indicated to lift his arms so he could remove the chain mail. Then with only his damp tunic left, he crossed his arms over his chest, leant against the small table and casually regarded Merlin, who squirmed a bit under Arthur’s intense stare as he put the individual items away.

Arthur didn’t say anything, he just watched. Merlin bustled about, or at least pretended to, but when he finally couldn’t stand it anymore he stood up straight and faced his king.

“What?” he asked, sounding painfully petulant. He mimicked Arthur and crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
Arthur’s gaze wandered up and down his body, obviously scrutinizing him, until it finally got caught at his face. Then his arms unfolded and he reached out, gently touching the spot underneath Merlin’s right eye.  
“Can’t see much,” he muttered, and Merlin realised that there must be a bruise from when Arthur had punched him last night. Instinctively, he touched his own fingers to the spot - grazing Arthur’s in the process - but it didn’t hurt like he’d expected.

He searched for Arthur’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said.  
Arthur nodded and let his hand travel lower and grab the side of Merlin’s neck in a friendly gesture.  
“I know… I know, but…” he let go with a sigh and turned away.

“Tell me something good. Reveal a secret that makes me trust you again and balances all the…” he gestured, something desperate in his movements, and Merlin understood.  
He supplied “stupid things?”, so they wouldn’t have to say _bad._  
  
Arthur nodded and Merlin took a deep breath. He had saved Arthur countless times but then that was kind of expected in battle. It seemed banal to point it out now. His thoughts whirled as Arthur regarded him expectantly.

“I saved you from the Sidhe once before,” he mentioned somewhat helplessly.  
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”  
  
“Yes, do you remember that girl Sophia? The one we saved in the woods?” Arthur nodded.  
“Well, she and her father were actually Sidhe, who had been banished and wanted to gain passage back to Avalon by sacrificing you.”  
“What?” Arthur stared at him with a dumbfounded expression. “But you told me I eloped with her?”  
“Well, you did… because she had put a spell on you and wanted to drown you in that lake. I saved you.”

Arthur’s confused and borderline disgusted expression said how much he believed that tale. Then he shook his head and walked over to the bed to sit down. “Tell me something I actually remember, because this, “he distractedly waved into the air, “just sounds ridiculous.”

Merlin tsked to gloss over his own nervousness. “It’s not my fault you have a weakness for sirens.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s the truth,” Merlin, with his arms akimbo, threw him a look that spoke of much more confidence than he actually felt, “as soon as some pretty damsel in distress calls for a valiant knight your brain switches off.”

Arthur snorted. “As if…”

“Alright, if you don’t believe that, then I prevented your father from marrying a troll and as such saved the whole kingdom.” Merlin challengingly stuck his chin out but regarded Arthur with a playful smirk. He was aiming for their usual banter and hoped that lighter tone would help with that.

“We defeated that troll together,” Arthur returned with an unimpressed eye roll.

“You wouldn’t have known in the first place she was a troll, if I hadn’t lifted the glamour that disguised her.” The retort was slightly smug but also teasing. Easing Arthur into the whole thing seemed to be working as the king really appeared a bit less tense in his posture. “I also caught the goblin, that…”

Arthur raised his hand in a silent gesture signalling for him to stop. “Merlin… my father…”

Merlin’s smirk fell immediately and a shiver ran down his spine. He really shouldn’t have brought up Uther. Involuntarily, he stood a little bit straighter and waited for Arthur to ask the question they had danced around for a very long time.

“My father…. did you… it was you, wasn’t it?” Arthur looked at him with wide blue eyes, something in them so vulnerable that it made him look almost child-like. Merlin felt his throat constrict.  
He tried to gather himself but the overwhelming feeling of nervousness wasn’t going away. He looked at Arthur, then at the spot behind him, then back to Arthur.

“Yes, Arthur, it was me.” There was no easy way to say this, so he just said it as it was.

Arthur cringed, there was something pleading in his gaze. “And?”

“And I wanted to help him but it didn’t work. I never wanted it to end the way it did.”

Arthur didn’t reply. Merlin observed him anxiously. He felt tempted to wring his hands and had to consciously keep them down while he waited. He shifted his weight instead. Then Arthur finally spoke.

“I don’t understand. Why would you want to help him in the first place? He hated sorcerers.”

The words stung, even though they stated nothing new. Merlin swallowed. “I helped him because you loved him,” he took a step closer to Arthur. “And because I thought that if you saw that magic could also be used for good, it would change your mind.”

Once again Arthur kept silent. Then he got up, equally as silently, quickly squeezed Merlin’s shoulder and walked past him. He stopped at the door. “Well, that backfired spectacularly.”

Merlin flinched when the door slammed shut.

* * *

 

Arthur descended the stairs back into the tap room. He really couldn’t look at Merlin right now. One part of him just wanted to hurt the traitor while the other longed to forgive his friend, but mostly he felt tired. Tired of the lies and tired of the quarrels with sorcery. At the back of his head a little voice even whispered that everything would be so much better had Merlin just kept his stupid secret to himself.

He shook his head and took a deep breath. He really had to let the thought go.

There weren’t a lot of patrons in the tap room yet, too early for anything but the occasional ale. He quickly scanned the room but his knights were nowhere to be seen, so he stepped outside. The sky was as grey as it had been before but at least it had stopped raining. The street was now littered with puddles of dirty water and Arthur had to watch where he put his feet to not soak his boots any more.

He followed the road and finally spotted Percival and Bedivere with their backs to him.  
Bedivere was sitting on a fence while Percival casually leant against it with his arms folded over his broad chest. Arthur approached them.

“I don’t really get it, you know,” Bedivere was talking. Something in Arthur made him slow his step. He listened.

“Sure, they have a lot of history and saved each other’s lives, but as a servant Merlin really kind of sucks.” Arthur found himself nodding in silent agreement.

“He’s uncouth, forgetful, clumsy and really lacks any sort of understanding for royal conduct.” Again, Arthur agreed.

“I mean there must be a reason why he keeps him around. You’ve certainly heard of the rumours about the king’s weak spot for servants,” Percival tensed but Bedivere just prattled on, entirely oblivious to the unfolding of the other knight’s thick arms. “The queen’s flawless, nobody can fault him that, but Merlin? Come on! I mean he’s cute when he smiles but apart from that he’s just a bumbling idi…”  
“You should stop right there, Bedivere!” Percival interrupted. The knight had turned towards the other man and his posture betrayed a stern rigidness. Arthur felt very grateful to him in that moment.

“Pfff,”Bedivere brushed him off, obviously not feeling threatened in the least. “A bit of gossip spices up court life. So, you don’t think they’re shagging?”

“I can assure you we’re not.” Arthur said in the most unruffled tone he could muster and stepped up behind the other two. Bedivere squeaked and literally fell off the fence.  
  
“Sire….I’m mortified…. please…”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, then exchanged a look with Percival, who was smirking now. He leant forward and propped his forearms on the fence. “Do you want to know why I keep Merlin around, Sir Bedivere?”

The man was staring at him with wide eyes, still sitting rather ungracefully on the wet ground.

“Let me tell you a story. On the first day I met Merlin – I was still a prince back then – he stepped up to protect a poor little squire he felt I was bullying during training. Told me to stop it and that it was enough. He had absolutely no idea who I was and what he was getting himself into, which landed him in the dungeon, of course,” Arthur nonchalantly gestured into the air, underlining his tale. Bedivere still stared at him.  
“Then, on the second day - he knew who I was now - he still picked a fight with me. Called me an ass and let me chase him with a mace. He cheated, otherwise he would never have made it, but he still walked away from it.” He regarded Bedivere with an intense focus now.  
“On the third day, he served at a royal banquet – and don’t ask me how he even got that position – and saved me from a crazy old hag, who tried to kill me. That’s how he became my manservant. Do you get what I’m trying to tell you?”

Bedivere shook his head with the most confused expression on his face. Arthur sighed dramatically.  
“I’m trying to tell you that within these three days Merlin displayed more sense of justice, courage, fearlessness, willingness to protect the weak and to stand up for what it’s right than most knights have in all their years of service.” He straightened and looked down at Bedivere. Something within him had just uncoiled and he knew instinctively that everything he had said was nothing but the truth. He didn’t need Merlin to tell him stories of his bravery, he already knew Merlin was brave and loyal and good. It was such a relief.

Bedivere finally scrambled to his feet. He bowed. “Sire, please, forgive my inconsiderate words. I didn’t know. I am deeply sorry.” He bowed again.  
Arthur wasn’t impressed, but he knew it was pointless antagonize the knight now. So he nodded.  
“You should consider paying more attention to your surroundings, Sir Bedivere.”

“Of course, Sire.” Arthur gave him a stern look.  
“Of course, Arthur.”

Arthur nodded. “Good. Now that we cleared that up, I want you examine the area for possible hideouts and blind spots. After dinner we will take up our positions and start patrolling the town inconspicuously.” The knights gave their assent and Arthur briefly clapped Percival on the shoulder before he turned around and left them again.

He didn’t take the same way back. Instead he rounded the village and approached the _Blue Sky_ from the back, studying the dangers the open meadow might hold for them during the night. He was still weighing protective measure against each other when he spotted Merlin through one of the windows on the second floor. Something unexpectedly playful took hold of him and he bent down and picked up one of the dirty pebbles lying around. To test its weight he threw it up once and caught it again in his hand, then he focused on the window.

He hit the window pane on first try, but it didn’t bring the desired effect. Arthur frowned and grabbed a pebble that was a bit bigger than the first one. He aimed for the window again, hit it and waited.

Still no reaction. Something bigger was obviously needed. He scanned the ground and came upon a dirty, half-rotten cone. Arthur picked it up with a grin, wound up and threw… and in exactly the same moment a slightly confused-looking Merlin opened to window and was promptly hit in the face. He stumbled backwards and Arthur burst out laughing.

“Sorry, dollophead, that wasn’t what I intended,” Arthur chortled between bouts of laughter. Merlin came back to the window, demonstratively wiping some dirt off his face and throwing Arthur a sour look. “You don’t say.”

Arthur clapped his thighs but then cleared his throat and obviously tried to pull himself together again. “Come down here, I need to talk to you.”

Merlin frowned but after a moment of consideration – and in the light of Arthur’s much improved mood – he nodded and closed the window swiftly.

It only took him a minute to turn around the corner and close up to Arthur.  
“So what’s up?” he asked, carefully eyeing the still grinning man. Arthur shook his head and lifted his hand to wipe a bit of dirt from Merlin’s face.

Merlin tensed a bit under the touch but didn’t recoil.  
“Why can’t you call like a normal person, anyway?” he asked with a little nervous laughter, his eyes darting from side to side.  
“Well, Merlin, if I stood under your window and sonorously called up to you to please open, someone might get the wrong idea,” Arthur answered teasingly.  
Merlin huffed. “As if anyone would mistake that for romantic overtures.”

“It’s apparently a thing,” Arthur answered dryly and turned around, wordlessly assuming Merlin to follow. “I just overheard Bedivere gossiping about my penchant for servants, which obviously includes you as my bedwarmer.”  
Behind him Merlin snorted dismissively. “Oh, that’s an old one. Rumours of you sodomizing me have been circulating since the Morteus flower incident.”

Arthur stopped and Merlin almost bumped into him. “Seriously? But that’s like almost from the very beginning.” Merlin shot him strained smile and shrugged.  
“Well, apparently the prince disobeying the king to save a servant’s life was cause enough to assume that before you were ever involved with Gwen, you were involved with me.”

Arthur’s face contorted into a disbelieving grimace. “Seriously? Who in the world comes up with these kind of things?”  
A light chuckle escaped Merlin. “Well, gossip spices up court life. Besides, you should hear the newest stuff. It ranges from me secretly plotting to assassinate the queen out of jealousy to you and me eloping and living as farmers.”  
Arthur felt his jaw drop, then he reached up to massage his temple tiredly. Somehow his father’s dislike of Merlin suddenly made a lot more sense. He took a deep breath.

“Why have you never told me that?”  
Merlin shrugged. “Why would I? It’s just gossip. None of it is even remotely true.”  
“Yes, but... your reputation?” Arthur made a slightly helpless gesture. Merlin smirked and shook his head. “You remember the part where I’m a peasant from a no-name place over the border? I never had much of a reputation to begin with. You should be much more worried about your own.”  
  
“Yes, but it isn’t people’s business to poke their noses into other people’s sex life.”  
Merlin raised an eyebrow and threw Arthur a look. “A-ha? And who was entirely too interested in whether or not all the high priests of the old religion were virgins?”

“You said you weren’t a high priest,” Arthur huffed.  
“I’m not. I’m not to both of your questions.”

“Oh? Now you got me interested.”

Merlin elbowed him but Arthur only laughed some more and tousled his hair.  
“One day you have to tell me about the lucky lady.”

“Didn’t you actually call me down here to tell me something?” Merlin deflected and Arthur straightened a bit. “Yes, I wanted you to help me scout the perimeters.”

“And you couldn’t have done that on your own?”

* * *

They had gathered around the heavy wooden tables, eating something that the innkeeper swore was pork but most likely was... not. Arthur didn't want to think too closely about it. It was edible, the broth could even be considered tasty. When Merlin felt like asking for the recipe though, Arthur wordlessly smacked him over the head. No need to overdo it, after all. It earned him some chuckles from the knights, all except Bedivere, who still seemed too preoccupied with wishing himself invisible. Arthur almost pitied the man. He had even offered him a half-hearted nod when they sat down, but all in all it amused him too much how he could barely look at them, most of all Merlin.

So when Arthur sent Merlin off to fetch them some ale, he purposefully pinched his manservant’s backside while he got up. It earned him a scandalized yelp from the aggrieved party, a raised eyebrow from Leon, a full-hearted bellow of laughter from Percival and the look of a frightened rabbit from Bedivere.

He clapped the man's shoulder over the table and said in the most unpleasant fashion he could muster: "No need to be so tense, Sir Bedivere, we're all good friends here." The man nodded nervously, and next to them even Leon's stern eyebrow seemed to have transformed into a kind of confused amusement. Arthur gave him a small nod, signalling that he wouldn't overdo it but that some _fun_ was in order. He wasn't the prattish prince from back then anymore, but part of him would probably always have this little penchant for some macho games.

“Shouldn’t we instead be talking about how to proceed?” Merlin said and noisily put five tankards on the table. Some of the ale sloshed over the lips. It had the desired effect in sobering them up immediately. Arthur nodded and with a much more focused expression handed out the tankards.

"We have scouted the perimeters and secured the area as far as possible. So I suggest we divide by four. It would be better to leave the firstborns in the company of someone else but we don't have the resources and as fully trained knights of Camelot I expect you to be able to defend yourselves." The knights nodded in agreement and Bedivere took a rather thirsty gulp of his ale.

"So, Leon, you take the north entrance to the village; Percival, you the south. Merlin will come with me and we will secure the east side, facing the woods. Which leaves Bedivere with the west." He regarded the knight with a look so intense that the other man almost faltered under it again. But instead he nodded and focused on his drink once more.

"Good. Our watch begins once the moon is out. Every hour we report at the town square and keep that up until dawn. Should someone spot the kidnapper, you know the signal. Do not engage him until backup arrives." He threw a little sideways glance at Merlin, who got the hint and straightened a little.

"Is that understood?"

The knights nodded obediently and Arthur settled back. "Until then you're free to do as you please."  
  
They finished their food and ale in silence. Arthur observed that Bedivere ordered another tankard once the first one was finished. He raised an eyebrow at the knight but his displeased look obviously got misinterpreted as another reprimand for his tactless remark, so he only ducked his shoulders and stared at the ale in front of him with even more sheepish intensity. Arthur felt like sighing but instead decided to get up. He gestured towards Merlin to do the same, but the fool was still nursing his own ale and retorted childishly that he wasn't finished yet.  
  
Arthur grabbed his upper-arm with one hand and put the tankard out of reach with the other.  
"Yes, and we both know what happened last time you didn't know when to stop." Merlin bristled but Leon and Percival chuckled. So he pulled his manservant away and saluted his men goodbye in a casual fashion.

* * *

“I don’t like this,” Arthur grumbled, “it seems flimsy.” They were hiding behind a pile of wood, both clad in their long dark cloaks.

Merlin only snorted in response and continued with his warding spell. They had agreed on doing their best to protect the people of Sol, so Merlin drew the symbol for protection on the wood. It glowed faintly before it faded back into invisibility. He nodded to himself but then finally focused on Arthur, who had observed the whole process with a slight frown on face. “And will that keep it away from the villagers?”  
  
“It should. But I fear it will also put a target on the knights’ backs.” He put a last, caressing touch to the wood before he straightened and pulled the cloak a bit tighter around himself. With a silent gesture he signalled for them to continue to the next house, where he repeated the spell against a door post. “I’m not particularly worried about Leon, but maybe it would’ve been wiser to send Bedivere with Percival instead.”

Arthur didn’t answer immediately, instead something like a sigh escaped his lips.  
“I know,” he brushed some of his hair out of his forehead in a distracted fashion. “But Bedivere is a knight of Camelot. He may lack the experience, yet he stood against Morgana at Camlann too, so it seems…” he paused, then he shook his head. “Alright, we’ll have an eye on him.”

Merlin chuckled. He found Arthur’s resigned mother hen attitude towards the green knight somewhat amusing.

They cautiously made their way across the town square in search of Bedivere. The moon overhead cast everything in eerie twilight and even the smallest nook looked dark and threatening. They exchanged some worried glances, but the village surrounding them stayed silent, so the scurried along on silent feet. Yet before the even neared the outer row of houses, they heard voices, or to be precise, Bedivere’s voice.

“It’s re-ally a shame fo-for a lovely girl like yo-ou to be out he-ere aaaall on your own,” he slurred and Arthur immediately tensed.

“He’s drunk! He fucking drunk!” Arthur hissed, and Merlin had to put a calming hand on his upper arm to keep the man from storming over there and shake the inebriated knight.

Bedivere was leaning in on a woman, tall yet lithe in frame, while his hand was propped against a wooden house wall. He was obviously trying to cut a handsome figure, but the alcohol in his blood made his movements sloppy and his words hard to understand. Under normal circumstances this would have made exactly the kind of image girls tended to run from, but this one didn’t seem to mind.

Merlin felt his eyebrows wandering upwards, when the girl lifted a slender, pale hand to the knight’s cheek.  
  
“What the…” he heard Arthur mumble next to him and silently agreed.  
“Doesn’t look like he needs saving,” he said instead.  
“No, he needs a night in the drying-out cell. I will really need to have a word with him about knightly conduct.”

Merlin squeezed his arm. They observed the couple for a few more moments, now obviously about to move to more serious business, as the knights hands were clumsily roaming over the back lacings of her dress.  
  
Arthur bristled. “He’s supposed to protect the villagers, not seduce them.”  
“I don’t think there’s a whole lot of seduction going on on his part,” Merlin retorted drily as the knight hiccupped and the girl planted a light kiss on his lips. From where they were standing it was hard to tell what exactly she looked like. Her hair was dark and her skin fair, but they couldn’t really see her face. “But you know, maybe it’s not the worst of developments to have Bedivere in someone’s care,” he added when the girl begun to pull him towards a shed.

Arthur snorted in a most displeased fashion and then gestured for Merlin to go ahead and place his protection spell on the ramshackle hut the couple had just vanished into.  
  
“Now we’re one man down.” He crossed his arms over his chest, clearly reproachful.

“One man who is at least safe now,” he patted Arthur’s shoulder in a mock-sympathetic fashion.  
Arthur huffed.

“Let’s go and find Leon.”

* * *

While Sol had, when it came to the weather, not exactly displayed its most attractive side so far, it became very clear to them that they hadn’t seen the worst of it yet. In the short time since they had been gone from the town square, thick fog had rolled in and was now crawling along the ground in an almost sentient manner. Merlin shivered and felt very much like staying far away from it. Unfortunately, the wall of grey was already closing in on all four sides.

“Let me guess, this is magical fog?” Arthur stated in a fashion so casual, it could almost have belied his uneasiness.

“Very likely.”

“Can you get rid of it?”

In that respect Merlin was ahead of him, because he had already put out his magical feelers to make sense of what had happened around them and how this clear moon-lit night had so suddenly turned into this…. soup.

His magic touched the fog, glided through it, and left Merlin feeling puzzled.  
“This is weird,” he mumbled.

“Oh, not again,” Arthur groaned. “This is exactly the same thing you said yesterday! Haven’t we already established that you have no freaking clue about Sidhe magic? Can you make it go away or not?”

Merlin shot him an indignant look. It, however, lost quite a lot of its desired effect in the face of the fact that it was already becoming harder to make out Arthur’s contours between the grey.  
“No, I can’t. Messing with the weather is not something I would risk. And I find it, to be honest, quite frightening that someone else would, because it’s a practice that is very much frowned upon in all magical communities.”

“Well, then we probably shouldn’t waste any more time and find Leon instead!” He grabbed Merlin’s hand and started pulling him in a certain direction.  
  
“Do you know where we’re going?” He asked doubtfully, though secretly glad for the warmth of Arthur’s hand around his.  
  
“Shut up, Merlin. Of course I know where we’re going.”

_Well, as long as one of us knows_ … or at least pretended to.

Some gallows humour was never misplaced and it made him feel a little bit better. “Alright, then let me get us a light. Even if it will only be of little use here.” He stopped and held out his other hand, that wasn’t currently in Arthur’s grip and summoned one of his spheres. It illuminated their surroundings only to the extent that it cast the dark grey fog into hues of blue. Yet it still seemed to have a positive effect on Arthur, whose rigid posture slackened a little. He gave a curt nod of approval. A spark of warmth ran through Merlin…

….only to be replaced by the feeling of an ice shower when a voice tore through the thick molasses.

“Sire!”

With his hand whipped back from Arthur Merlin made the sphere vanish and took a hasty step away from the king. Leon was approaching.

“Sire,” he sounded out of breath. “I’m so glad to have found you. This crazy fog really came out of nowhere.” Arthur gave a polite nod and clapped Leon on the shoulder in greeting but his eyes kept darting over to Merlin.

Merlin on his part gave Leon a strained smile. It was hard to assess how much the knight had seen in this fog, and considering that he was neither screaming at him nor waving his sword around chances were good that he had averted another discovery. He tried to calm his racing heartbeat.

“Have you seen Percival?” he asked to divert the attention away from him.

“No, but I think it might be well-advised to bring the group back together. Also we should find young Bedivere.”

“Don’t worry about Bedivere, he’s in good company,” Arthur said in a dismissive tone, “we should focus on Percival.” Merlin nodded and Leon shot them both a slightly confused frown, but then obviously decided not to question it any further.

“Well, then we should go south. I believe it’s in that direction,” Leon pointed over their shoulders where the fog was just as thick as anywhere else and Merlin silently thought that it was as good a shot as any.

They waded through the wafts as if they were truly something solid. It made their footsteps slow, and heavy and by now everything from their cloths to their hair was cold and clammy. Merlin felt really chilly by now.

“A light would be useful,” Leon murmured. Merlin suppressed a grimace but still noticed the look Arthur shot him.  
  
“It would indeed,” the king deadpanned. “But who would have guessed that such a small village could turn into such a tra-”. From somewhere to their right the dampened noise of something clattering to the ground broke through the fog. It was followed by some rather colourful swearing.  
  
“Percival?” Merlin called carefully.

“Yes,” and after a pause they heard some shuffling. “Where are you?”  
Something about the knight’s voice was off. They exchanged some looks, Arthur and Leon immediately taking a fighting stance.

“Right in front of you. Are you alright, Sir Percival?” Arthur asked.  
  
The sound of footsteps echoed, but then their rhythm faltered. Leon and Arthur drew their swords. “I’m quite alright,” Percival’s hulky form was now starting to manifest in the fog, raising his hands in a placating manner when he saw the cultrate welcoming committee.

“I only stubbed my toe,” he added with a sheepish smile and gestured towards his limp.

Arthur huffed in exasperation, but the relief was still clearly visible in his shoulders when he sheathed his sword again. They were all glad to know that they still had all the members of their group.

“So, have you noticed anything suspicious, apart from this wall of mysterious mist?”  
“No, Sire. The night was calm and clear until, well… all of this,” he gestured around them and Arthur nodded. They hadn’t really expected anything different.

“We should stay together from now on then,” he instructed.

“Stay-g… togeth-er… -s… wha-… you… shoul- … -ve… done… t-… be-in… with,” a voice interrupted and the knights immediately tensed up again. Leon and Arthur went back to drawing their swords and Percival shoved Merlin behind himself with a speed the belied his earlier injury.

“Who’s there?” Arthur called.

“Ohhh… you… kno-w.. who’s… the-re,” the voice cackled. It was of a higher pitch, but the weird, chopped staccato that made it tune in and out of the air that carried it rendered it hard to understand.

“What?” Arthur asked and then she was just there.

Unlike Percival who they had seen gradually approaching them, she just appeared out of nowhere right next to them. The knights literally scattered like a flock of pigeons.

“Morgana?” Arthur stared at her with wide eyes, his sword forgotten in his hands. It was Percival who reacted first and stormed towards her, his own weapon slashing through thin air.

“I’m dead, you fools.” Her voice still sounded strange, but it was easier to understand when they could see her mouth moving. She shook her head at them in an affected fashion. In her red cloak with the silver stitching she almost looked like the princess of Camelot again. Arthur still seemed speechless and Percival was trying to gather himself up to start another charge at her.

“You bitch!” He yelled. “You killed him!”

And once again he burst through her apparition and landed on the floor with a heavy thump.  
“Big muscles, small brain?” she mocked, though this time she was clearly looking at Merlin who had bent down to help Percival up and ideally prevent him from another pointless attack on the spectre.  
He shot her a reproachful look. “What do you want, Morgana?”

“The same as yesterday, the same as the day before… to point you in the right direction.” Their gazes followed her outstretched arm that pointed somewhere behind them.

“You really should never have split up,” she said and the seconds ticked by until Merlin leapt to his feet, finally understanding what she was hinting at. “Bedivere is safe.” He stressed the words as if he was trying to convince himself. Next to him Arthur seemed to catch on too.

“Not if the siren is already with him.”  
Merlin’s eyes widened, then he turned around and started running. Somewhere behind him he heard Morgana’s chuckle being swallowed up by the fog. Arthur was with him only a moment later.

“In which direction now?” he asked.

Merlin shook his head, then after a moment of hesitation he summoned another light to which he whispered an urgent “find him”, before it shot off of his hand. They followed the little sphere while the steps of the other two knights were still close behind but not within eyeshot.

They recognized they alley in which they had originally left Bedivere. Ironically, here the fog had started to lift, so Merlin made the sphere vanish again and they approached the shed carefully. He quickly ran his fingers over the wooden door, checking the warding spell, which proved to be still intact. So Merlin grabbed for the handle, but Arthur stopped him with a silent shake of his head.

At the other end of the alley Leon and Percival had arrived too and with another wordless sign Arthur told them to get into position. The knights nodded and drew their swords. Arthur pulled Merlin behind him, who felt something between affection and an eye-roll over the king’s protective behaviour, but complied. Then, after another small nod, Arthur kicked the door in.

Only silence and darkness greeted them. Arthur made a tentative step inside, Merlin right at his heels. But of course the shed turned out to be empty.

“Damnit, Merlin!”

Behind them the knights shuffled around. “I got us some torches,” Leon said dutifully and handed one of them to Merlin, who promptly dug some kindling out of his pockets. Though once they were lit their suspicions were only confirmed and there was indeed no trace of Bedivere or the mysterious girl.

“So, what exactly happened?” Percival finally asked, and it was clear he wasn’t only referring to the missing knight. All the heads turned towards Merlin, who nervously crossed his arms over his chest.

“Morgana seems to be haunting us… or me. I’m not exactly sure, but I already saw her yesterday.”

Arthur immediately tensed up and Merlin could hear him take a deep breath. “You already saw her yesterday and it didn’t occur to you to mention that?”

“Arthur,” he uncrossed his arms and lifted them in placating gesture, “we already have enough other troubles. And Morgana isn’t dangerous. She even claims that she wants to help.”

Percival snorted but immediately covered it with an awkward cough. Arthur however seemed to share that kind of evaluation and only fixed Merlin with a hard stare. “You do remember the part where only about two weeks ago she wanted to kill us all?”

Merlin gave a helpless shrug. “I know, but it’s different now. She doesn’t possess any powers like Uther did when he came back. I think her being here is more something like…. repentance.” His voice had got smaller towards the end. He wasn’t entirely sure whether he believed it himself, and Arthur’s expression said about how much truth he saw in that statement.

Merlin grimaced and was tempted to wish the other Pendragon dead once more.

“So we have mysteries kidnappings, which are probably conducted by seductive supernatural beings; a missing knight and a ghost haunting.” Percival summarized.

“Sounds almost like a normal week in Camelot,” Leon tried to joke, but it fell flat in the face of Arthur’s expression that was still so taut with anger that it made Merlin feel a bit nauseous.

* * *

The next day was bad. They had spent half of the remaining night searching for Bedivere – without any success, of course - and the rest securing the area. Even though securing was probably an overstatement considering none of them really seemed to know what they were doing anymore.

They had then left Sol shortly after the first light. The general mood was as gloomy as the weather and none of them really talked more than strictly necessary. They still headed toward the mountains, but Arthur’s paranoia had forced them to leave the road and follow a narrow and rough path along the edge of the woods instead, which slowed them down considerably.  
  
Merlin understood Arthur’s decision. He wanted to avoid running into people, who could become targets for their silent stalker. Yet at the same time he also felt extremely weary of the situation, because after literally no sleep, a whole day of suspicious looks from three knights and the perceived one hundredth branch slapping his leaves into Merlin’s face, he just wanted a break… which he got when one of their horses unexpectedly gave a pained neigh.

It had obviously missteped on the bad path and the knights were forced to descend and have a look at it. In the face of the general exhaustion though, they decided to make an early camp and Merlin was grateful for it.

He patted the injured mare’s mane and mumbled a kind “I will take care of you later”, when he unfastened the saddle bags. The horse’s dark eyes followed him as if they were saying _I’ll hold you to that_ and Merlin had to shake his head over himself. He carried the bags over to the pit where Percival was trying to start a fire.

“Rabbit again, tonight?” he asked, and it was clear that he wasn’t particularly fond of the idea.  
“Depends on what you competent knights of Camelot can catch,” Merlin return with a little teasing smile. Percival gave a resigned groan.

“We still have some dried meat,” Leon announced from the other end of their little camp.  
“Yes, and we better keep that, in case we really can’t find any rabbits,” Arthur stated sternly while stepping out of the tent he had just put up. Leon nodded dutifully but Percival grimaced a little in Merlin’s direction. Of course, nothing went undetected by Arthur today, who stared icy daggers at the two of them and then snarled at Percival to find better food if he was dissatisfied.

"Alright then," Percival clapped his hands with fake enthusiasm, "let's go and hunt us some dinner." His back vanished into the woods and Merlin threw Arthur a reproachful _was that really necessary_ look. Arthur glared back and the tension was only slightly relieved by Leon's sheepish cough.  
  
"He shouldn't be in danger, should he? He's second-born."  
Arthur tore his gaze away from Merlin. "As long as he's back before dark, he will be fine anyway. But we won't test it," her answered tersely.  
  
Leon nodded and went over to Percival's abandoned spot. His endeavours to start a fire proved quite futile though with the kindling just too wet for the spark to catch. Arthur gave an exasperated sigh and stomped back to his tent.

Merlin squatted down next to the knight and held out his hand for the fire stones. "Why don't you let me do that?"  
  
Leon hesitated. Then, instead of handing the stones over, he put them down next to himself and folded his hands over his knees. "You know Merlin, I always thought you had an exceptional talent for making fire. Everything would catch, no matter how bad the weather," he said in a low, conspiratorial voice.  
  
Merlin raised an eyebrow. Leon's gaze quickly went over his shoulder to check Arthur's tent before he continued, "I always kind of guessed that it must have to do with your talent, but I never really knew how much you really do with it."  
"What are you talking about?" Merlin asked and put on his most guileless face while he heard his own hammering heartbeat in his ears. Leon raised a calming hand. "Please, let me finish..."

Merlin stared at him with big eyes. The seconds were ticking by.  
  
"I know, Merlin. I have for a long time. And I always thought this was just one of the things we didn't talk about, but…” He couldn’t hear what Leon was saying anymore, the rushing of his blood was just too loud. He swallowed and forced himself to look at the knight, who had placed a supporting hand on his shoulder.

“…. often enough it was alright to just follow the orders and do as we were told, but I really think Arthur and you need to tell us what exactly we are dealing with to be able to properly fight this faceless evil."  
  
Merlin's mouth opened, but he couldn't say anything. His head was still revolving around the one thing: Leon knew! _Leon knew?_ _How_ , he wanted to ask, but the knight continued.

"Between Uther and Morgana I understand why you never made it official, but why not now? Why not tell us what is going on? I think it would help us to fight our enemies and protect Camelot if you told us the truth."  
  
"Yes, Sir Leon, I actually agree with that." Arthur had turned up behind them and made both of them flinch violently. Merlin jumped up, already in the automatic calm Arthur down mode but the king just signalled with a dismissive gesture to sit down again while he walked over to the other side of the fire pit and lowered himself to one of the big logs arranged around it. He looked regal and stern as he regarded the two men opposite of him. Merlin shivered and even Leon had shrunk a bit under the scrutiny of the king.  
  
"Light the fire, Merlin."  
  
Merlin looked over to Arthur and felt the pleading in his own gaze. But there was no escaping it, Arthur’s mind was set, so held out it hands and muttered the spell. The flames burst to life so suddenly that Leon almost fell off of his own log.  
  
"Oh wow," the knight muttered. "That's a bit more than I expected."  
  
If Merlin hadn't been so terrified, he might actually have felt a bit flattered. But as it was his gaze was glued to Arthur, who in turn was regarding the fire.  
  
"So are we talking about it?" Leon asked cautiously. "The magic?"  
  
The m-word made Merlin cringe again and Arthur look up. "Yes. Yes, I guess we are. So Sir Leon, why don't we start with you explaining to us how exactly you knew about Merlin."  
  
Arthur had one of these little cruel smiles on his face. It didn’t bode well with Merlin but surprisingly enough it seemed to have the exactly opposite effect on Leon.  
"Since the dragon, Sire," he answered and straightened a little bit. "I wasn't completely knocked out by the attack and saw Merlin sending it away. After that it was pretty clear that he must be in possession of... magic."

Arthur nodded, but it was the kind of subconscious thing that indicated that he was actually deep in thought. "That was eight years ago, Leon. Wouldn't such an incident demand that you actually pay more attention to Merlin's doings than just pretend they didn’t exist?

"Well, of course, I had my eyes on him after that, Sire. But considering how close you two always were and how much time you spent together, I assumed you had to be in on it…. You were in on it, weren't you?" Leon asked, now suddenly a lot more cautious.  
  
Merlin felt his insides pulling themselves into a knot while Arthur smiled a humourless smile and answered with a dry "of course". Leon relaxed again.  
  
"So, I thought you must be protecting Merlin. There was a moment when Morgana tried to usurp the throne for the first time, when I wondered whether Merlin would side with her, but he was always so clearly fighting for our cause that doubting him seemed to do him injustice. “

Arthur nodded but his gaze was again fixed on something far away. “Well then, Sir Leon, let’s begin the story time with how I died.”

* * *

Telling Leon hadn’t been as horrible as Merlin had anticipated and the knight had taken it with his usual task-orientated stoicism that didn’t judge. So Merlin was safe there, yet he still felt restless and jittery.

They had retreated to their tent. Arthur hadn’t said much and instead just grumbled that they should try to catch up on their missed sleep while Leon and Percival had the first watch. But lying here and staring into the darkness while listening to Arthur’s regular breathing didn’t solve anything. The kidnapper was still out there, probably trailing them, waiting for another opportunity to strike. He had to do something.

Merlin stared ahead, not really seeing the monochrome shapes in the tent. He flexed his fingers and the bracelet on his wrist jingled. Merlin stared at it…. and stared… and then it came to him.  
  
When he didn’t wear it, he had dreams. Unclear, vague and draining dreams, but they showed something important, something that had to do with the Sidhe. He slipped it over his hand and placed it as far away from himself he could without getting up. He didn’t know how strong it actually was and how far it reached, but he wasn’t wearing it, so the dreams should be able to come to him.

A voice that sounded suspiciously like Arthur whispered in his mind that this was a horrible idea, but Merlin decided to ignore it. He had to do something! And after the botched attempt yesterday the guilt of having failed not only Bedivere but also Camelot as a whole was gnawing on him more than ever.

He closed his eyes but the images of the day were still swirling before his inner eye. Next to him Arthur shifted. Merlin wondered how Leon and Percival were doing. He could still occasionally hear their hushed conversation through the tent cloth, which was a good sign but didn’t mean he wasn’t worried. Leon was the only remaining firstborn that was of interest to the kidnapper in their immediate surroundings and as such their number one priority when it came to the question of who to protect. But the knight had, of course, strongly disliked the idea of spending the night sheltered and put away like a damsel in distress and insisted on going about his duties like always. The only concession Arthur had been able to wring from him was to do the watch duty in pairs instead of alone. So here they were, and Merlin still couldn’t sleep.

He felt the exhaustion pulling at him and for a brief moment he wondered if there wasn’t a spell to make oneself fall asleep. He knew one that worked on other people – he may or may not have used it on Arthur one time, or several.

He repeated the word in his head, not daring to rouse the king. _Sweofet.  
_ He concentrated on his magic, imagined the word and its effect on him and repeated it again. _Sweofet. Sweofet… Sweofet._ So long until he felt it and sleep took him.

* * *

_He was back in the forest. There were low voices and the flickering light of a fire made the shadows long and moving in ominous ways. He observed them for a moment in their play before he focused on his prey once more._

_Stealthily, he moved closer but his long coat caught on one of the twigs and vaguely reminded him to shed it. His appearance had to change too, not much, but enough to lure._

_He held out his hands and observed as the fingernails retracted a little and the colour of his skin turned to something that pretended to be human. He flexed his fingers. They stayed the same, yet they still felt so wrong._

_Somewhere not far off an owl hooted in greeting. He greeted her back, offering a reward for a little help. She seemed to consider, even flew a few branches over and approached him. Only to be scared of again by the sudden appearance of the spectre that flickered to life right next to him. He hissed at it and chased it away with a wave of his hand, but the deed was done. The owl was gone and the spectre grinned at him victoriously a few meters further away._

_“Get thee hence, restless spirit, for thou art not of this world,” he muttered and the spectre was indeed washed away. Not, however, without whispering a mocking_ ‘nor are you’.

_He stared at the spot where it had been in pure hatred. It made him clench his hands and the forest around him fell silent. With an effort he let go of the feeling and turned his attention back on the prey by the fire. He took a deep breath and the nature around him returned to its nightly sounds and activities._

_The men were sitting on their logs, poking the embers with disinterested languidness. They were speaking, the big one even yawned. He observed, still waiting for the ideal moment to enact his plan._

_He really was only interested in the one with the sandy hair. Admittedly, the other one was more comely, but he wouldn’t do for all his other needs, so sandy it had to be._

_His golden eyes followed the tired movements of the two knights some more, until the big one finally got up. “I have to…” he gestured down on himself and then to the bushes. The other one only nodded._  
  
Time had come. He patted himself down and within the blink of eye his clothing changed. Then he started running…

_“Leon, Leon! Over there, I need you to come with me,” he panted in fake breathlessness and pointed into the woods. Sandy immediately sprung to his feet and started following him._

_“What is it?” shouted the other one, still in the process of emptying his bladder, but neither of them looked back. They both ran and he felt his face contort into a satisfied grimace. Only a few meters further and he had sandy where he wanted him. It wouldn’t matter if the big one was following them now, he was too far back._

_“Over there, down by the brook,” he shouted and sprinted over twigs and leaves as if his life depended on it – well, someone’s life certainly did._

_“Wait, Merlin! At least tell me what it is!”_

_He ignored it and just continued on, they were almost there. Then suddenly there was a gasp behind him and the steps faltered. He turned around and saw…._

_…the spectre!_

_It was standing right in front of the ill-fated knight, shouting voicelessly at him. He could feel his ire rising like a storm._

_“Lady Morgana, what…” sandy had tumbled to the ground and was staring wide-eyed at the apparition in front of him._

_He raised his hand and without thinking blasted both the spectre and the man away. The trees creaked and a whole mound of earth was heaped up by the attack. He stared at it and couldn’t help the scream of unadulterated rage that came over his lips._

* * *

Merlin woke and felt utterly out of place. Someone was screaming and it took him a second of Arthur’s not very gently shaking to realise that it was himself.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Arthur yelled, but at the same time deep worry was edged into his face and he only reluctantly let go of Merlin’s rumpled tunic.

Outside hurried footsteps were approaching, then the tent flap was thrown back. “Sire, Merlin! Leon has been attacked! Come quickly!”

 

TBC

 


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear friends, it is I, the author who needs seven months for an update^^’ 
> 
> Please forgive me, a lot has been going on and a hardcore writer’s block hit me. Anyway, here’s the new chapter with a lot of tension and angst. Enjoy!
> 
> Btw I was really grateful for all the comments I got for the last chapter. They mean a lot to me and are really the only reason I haven’t given up on this story. So don’t give up on me either;3 Tell me what you think, leave a few words behind this time, too!
> 
> Warning: There is a rather mild non-consensual touching/groping scene in this chapter. If that puts you off, I recommend you just skip the part from "Well, are you going to do something or not?" (during the bathing scene) and get back in at “What’s going on here?!” (only a bit further down). See the bottom notes for a summary of the scene.

Leon was wheezing, a branch protruding from his chest area where it had obviously punctured his lung. Over the hammering of his own heartbeat, Merlin could barely hear the frantic shouting around him. His hands were pressed against the bleeding wound, but the branch needed to go first before he could do anything else.

He looked up at Arthur and Percival. “I need you to lift him."

The two men carefully grabbed the wounded knight, who only gave a pained groan in the process. Merlin braced himself. His fingers closed round the branch, then he pulled. Leon screamed before his head fell forward, unconscious. A stream of blood gushed from the wound, Percival shifted nervously, unsure of where to look.

"Do something, Merlin!" Arthur yelled.

"I'm working on it," he pressed out while the blood was still seeping through his fingers. This wasn’t good, absolutely not. He quickly looked up, his gaze flitting over Percival to Arthur, who only narrowed his eyes and then nodded. Merlin took a deep breath and focused.

The magic flowed through him and into Leon. It knitted torn tissue back together as if it had never been apart and Percival could only utter an astonished "oh". Somewhere at the back of his head Merlin also noticed that Percival didn't flinch, which reassured him slightly.

He signalled for them to put the man down again and put a water skin against his lips. Leon spluttered but came to. "What happened?" he croaked. Signs of shock clearly edged into his features.

"You were attacked, and we hoped you could actually tell us more about that."

"I don't really know," Leon rasped distractedly while his hand wandered to the spot where the wound had been, "I followed Merlin."   
  
Immediately two heads turned in Merlin’s direction, who could only widen his eyes in confusion. But Leon, still pale as a sheet and with his gaze fixed on nothing on particular, pressed out in a breathy voice: "The Lady Morgana appeared. I think she tried to warn me, but I couldn't hear her properly. And then, I don't know..."

Heavy silence descended upon the group, until Percival crouched down and carefully touched the man's arm. "Are you sure that’s what happened, Leon? Merlin was in Arthur's tent when I went to get them." The man looked confused, then he shook his head slightly and seemed to make up his mind. "I thought it was weird too that he was suddenly outside, but it happened so fast. And I didn't want to let him go alone in case there really was something…" his voice trailed off.

Percival nodded in understanding.

Only Merlin didn't really understand. He still felt quite beside himself. He searched for Arthur's gaze but the king ignored him, having lowered himself to sit next to Leon instead. "Tell me about Morgana," he said.

"I was running after Merlin... or whatever he was, shouting for him to stop and explain, but he didn't." Despite Leon’s somewhat choppy narrative Merlin could see it before his inner eye, remembered it actually. Something within him felt icy cold.

Leon struggled to sit up straighter, but some colour had returned to his face. Even in this state he was his most dutiful self. "Then she just turned up, right in front of me. I was so surprised I fell," Leon squinted as if he was trying to remember it properly. "She was yelling and gesturing, like like..."

"Like a banshee?" Percival supplied and Arthur seemed to have to suppress a frown.

"No, not like that. There was no sound, but I could see her mouth moving. She was trying to tell me something and pointed at M- the other one. Then it was already over."

Arthur hmmed and squeezed Leon's arm reassuringly before he got up again. "It almost seems as if my late sister really tried to thwart Leon's abduction. Percival why didn't you see anything?" There was an obvious rigour in Arthur's voice and the knight blushed.

"I'm sorry, Sire, I was," he hesitated then mumbled, "relieving myself. Before I properly saw who was even there, Leon had already taken off. And then there was only the sound of the crash."

"So you saw neither ghost nor culprit?"

"No, Sire," Percival sounded deeply embarrassed.

"I see," Arthur said and at the same time shot Merlin a look that made it absolutely clear that this was far from over. Then he stomped off in the camp's direction. Merlin felt the immediate need to run after him and make reassurances, but eventually decided that it may be wiser to focus on Leon first. "Can you get up?" he asked and held out his hands for support.

"Yeah yeah," he groaned but struggled to his feet, "I really thought this time I was a goner.”

"You were a goner,” Percival said while he slung Leon's arm over his shoulder. The he leant in and whispered in a conspiratorial fashion, "Merlin has magic and healed you."

"Ah, a thank you is in order then." Merlin only inclined his head and took Leon's other arm.

"What?! You knew?!" Percival exclaimed in an exasperated fashion, while a little grin graced Leon's lips as he held on to the two other men.   
  
"Am I the last to know? Is that that reason Arthur's so prissy?"  
   
"I can hear you, Sir Percival," a voice called over from their camp and made Percival wince. Leon, however, seemed pretty amused when they unloaded him unto on of the logs.

"No, Arthur's just his usual charming under pressure self," Merlin explained and sat down next to him. He examined the non-existent wound some more and seemed to deem it acceptable because he clapped Leon on the shoulder and said in mock sympathy, "You'll live, but that hole in your tunic needs fixing. I recommend you do it now, or have Percival help you." With that he procured some thread and needle and dumped them into Leon's hands. "I think I need to have a word with our king."  
   
Percival stared after him when Merlin left for Arthur's direction. "So, now we all know he has magic and he suddenly develops an attitude?"  
"When didn’t Merlin have an attitude?" Leon retorted and put the thread and needle into his lap. Percival chuckled and set down next to him. "True enough."  
   
Merlin heard Arthur hacking away at a tree trunk, with his best sword.  
"You better not expect me to sharpen it after you're done with your... practice."  
Arthur's head snapped around and he threw Merlin an acidic look but then continued slashing at the tree. Merlin sat down on the ground next to him.  
   
"I know you're angry with me but please listen to me now."  
  
"Oh, now you want to talk?" Arthur whirled around, his face taut with anger and his skin glistening with sweat. The way Arthur waved the sword around in front of him would probably have made a lesser man falter, but Merlin just took a deep breath and looked at him. "I have a theory why Leon thinks he saw me."  
   
Arthur stared at him, then he shook his head and slammed the sword's tip into the ground. "Alright, please enlighten me." He wiped some of the sweat from his forehead.  
   
"I think they're shapeshifters. It would explain quite a lot, if you think about it."  
Arthur raised an eyebrow, but Merlin continued, "It would explain why nobody ever saw a suspicious stranger in Camelot, why we saw a girl with Bedivere but Leon believes he was following someone who looked like me. They go for the appearance that will blend in but works best as bait."  
   
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright, let's say I believe that, what would you suggest we do?" He sounded somewhat defeated.  
Merlin's gaze wandered back into the direction where he knew Percival and Leon were sitting. "I think we should leave them here. I'm pretty sure they will try for Leon again if we take them with us."  
   
"And what makes you think they won't try again while we're away?"  
   
"I don't. But taking them with us will certainly make him a target, while leaving him and Percival behind could mean that they are in relative safety."  
   
Arthur huffed and took up his sword again. "I don't like it. You can go and tell them."   
With that he took up swinging at the tree again. Merlin guessed it could have gone worse.  
   
So he scrambled back to his feet and trudged back to the camp, where Percival was still trying to fix the hole in Leon's tunic. "This looks surprisingly good," he commented.  
Percival preened a little. "What did I tell you? I know what I'm doing." More towards Merlin though, he explained, "I was the second-oldest of five siblings, occasionally I had to help my mother."  
Merlin nodded and squeezed Percival's shoulder then lowered himself onto the log next to them.  
   
"I think you should go back to Sol," he said.

There was surprisingly little outrage over his statement. Leon and Percival merely exchanged a glance with each other before they fully turned to him. “And what makes you think that separating will be preferable to staying together?” Leon casually asked while he straightened his fixed tunic.

“To be honest I don’t know for sure. But because we assume that it’s following us – or Arthur, or me, I really don’t know – you would probably be better off if you weren’t in our direct vicinity.”

“Probably,” Percival deadpanned and Merlin felt a little sheepish over not being able to provide them with a better answer. So he only nodded.

Leon sighed. “Alright, let’s say we agreed to this really very foolish plan, what would we be doing in Sol and where exactly would you and Arthur go?”  
“Well,” Merlin hesitated, “you would go back and protect the town, make sure Bedivere was really the only one who was taken from there and that it stays this way, while we continue on to the mountains.”

Leon nodded absent-mindedly but Percival asked in a low voice, “What exactly are you looking for in the mountains? You never said.”

“Another sorcerer,” Arthur interrupted harshly and stomped back into their circle. The knights immediately straightened a little.   
“Because dear Merlin here has no freaking clue what he’s doing,” he grabbed Merlin’s neck and gave it a shake in a manner far from friendly, “we need to go and ask someone who actually does. And apparently that someone lives on a mountain.” Merlin gave a strained smile and removed Arthur’s hand from his neck.

“It’s complicated,” he muttered, “I need some help with the Sidhe. This is all a bit outside my realm of experience.” Arthur nodded in mock exaggerated agreement.

“Well then, gentlemen, I’d say you wait for our return back in Sol.”

* * *

 

   
It wasn't exactly rain that was accompanying them, more something like drizzle. In any case, it was very persistent and dragged the mood down further - if that was possible.

Merlin felt like sighing, audibly, but Arthur's sharp sidelong glance made it very clear that it wasn't appreciated. Generally, Merlin didn't feel much appreciated at the moment. Leon and Percival's departure was supposed to ease their situation but it had mostly had the opposite effect in making Arthur's hostility more overt.

"Arthur," the name was over his lips before he could properly think about it.

Arthur didn't turn around, just continued straight ahead on his mare. He gave a disinterested hmpf. Merlin studied the back of his head for a moment as it moved with the rhythm of the horse on this stony mountain path.

"Do you mind that Leon and Percival know now, too?"

Arthur's head turned abruptly and his shoulders immediately tensed up. It was very clear that he had hit the invisible bull's eye. "What in the world would give you that idea?" he pressed out.

This time Merlin sighed audibly. It was certainly the moment to do so.   
"Well, just the little thing that you lied to Leon and were even grouchier than usual with Percival."

"I'm not grouchy, Merlin, I'm the king."

"Oh well, then your stern kingliness was more extravagant than it normally is," Merlin retorted without missing a beat, "what brought this on, Arthur? Were you expecting them to react differently?"

He directed his own horse next to Arthur's, so that he actually saw more of the man's face than just a vague quarter-profile. Arthur observed the move with unveiled suspicion.

"They're knights of the realm. They're supposed to uphold the law," he answered tersely.

"And how exactly was this upholding of the law to take shape?" Merlin knew he was poking the sleeping lion and that he should let it go, but he had never been particularly good at knowing when to shut up.

Arthur took a deep breath, as if to emphasize how much patience putting up with Merlin demanded of him. "Leon knew for years. He knew while he served my father and as such was breaking the law by hiding a sorcerer." Merlin instinctively wanted to jump to Leon's defence but Arthur, sensing the objection, continued, “A knight’s first duty is to the realm he serves. You can’t pick favourites.”

“He thought you knew,” Merlin pressed through gritted teeth.

“Then he should have approached me. He was in no position to make such a choice on his own.”

Merlin didn’t know what to say to that. Part of him felt like he could barely breathe. He stared at Arthur’s face that was still turned strictly ahead, with only the rhythmic clacking of their horses’ hooves breaking through his stunned silence.

“I- Are you… are you saying you think he should have given me away? Is that the point of this whole thing?!” Merlin could hear his voice raising, “do you resent Leon and Percival for actually not freaking out? That’s it, isn’t it?!” He was bordering on screeching now, and somewhere at the back of his head he realised that this really wasn’t what he wanted to do, but he couldn’t help it. ~~~~

“You think you’re the only one who has the right to pass judgement on me, and if you don’t agree, nobody else should! But you know what, Arthur…” The wind around them had picked up and what was coming down from the skies now was definitely closer to sleet than to drizzle. Merlin registered it, but it really didn’t seem like that big an issue right now. With an agitated movement he swiped a loose strand of hair from his eyes.

“…you’re not the only person in my life! They’re my friends too, and their opinion counts too…”

“Merlin,” Arthur interrupted, but his voice sounded small against the roaring wind. He gestured to their surroundings, while fully-grown snowflakes whirled around him. Merlin didn’t care.

“…you may be the king. But this isn’t an issue between me and the king of Camelot, but between me and Arthur. And for once you need to stop being such a prat and just listen. I know you’re sore about the lying, and I’m sorry. I told you before, and I meant it. But I can’t change the past...”

What was surrounding them now could definitely be called a storm. Their horses had long since stopped moving and were huddled together instead, despite Merlin’s shouting.

“…don’t ever think that I enjoyed it. I wanted to tell you many times, I just didn’t because I wasn’t sure which side you’d pick. I always wanted to believe that it would be me, but you also always wanted to please your father so much…”

Merlin looked down. There was a thin layer of snow lying on the ground. It confused him a little, but it also made him take a breath. The exhaled air in front of his mouth was foggy. He had over-reacted.

He took another deep breath.

The storm had calmed down and there were only a few individual snowflakes drifting about. Arthur stared at him. His half-frozen hair sticking out in all directions, while his cloak was covered in a white spots. “Leon made the right choice,” he answered in a surprisingly collected fashion. Merlin stared at him a bit dumbfounded, but nothing more followed. No explanation, no elaboration and most certainly no apology. He swallowed and lowered his eyes, a sheepish red tingeing the tips of his ears.

"What next? Are you going to continue giving them a hard time?"

Arthur shook some of mostly melted ice from his head and spurred his horse on. "Why would I? When it’s most certainly you I should continue giving a hard time." Merlin felt a resigned grimace spreading over his face but got his horse to move too.   
 "Because as you so eloquently said during your little..." Arthur gestured around them, "it's you who messed up. They are just protecting a friend. Besides, I thought you said you couldn't manipulate the weather."

Well, that was a bit non-sequitur, but at least they had a conversation at a normal volume. Merlin observed the rapidly melting patches of snow and felt the heat rise in his cheeks. "I can't. Or at least I thought I couldn't. I don't know, it's...I didn't expect that to happen."

"Ah," he said and then after a pause he added, "like you didn't expect anything else to happen, I presume?"

"Yeah," Merlin said weakly.

* * *

 

"How much further is it?" Arthur asked. They were pretty far up by now, so that the light frost clinging to the sparse green had nothing to do with Merlin at all. Besides, the light was starting to fade.

"I don't know. I was never here before either," Merlin retorted but it came out much more defensive than he‘d intended. He sighed and then conjured one of his spheres. "Find us shelter," he whispered before it buzzed off. Their gazes followed its blue light until it was out of sight.  
"At least that's a useful skill." Arthur couldn't have sounded more dismissive.

They followed the direction in which the sphere had disappeared. And indeed after a few minutes came upon the entrance of a narrow cave. The sphere hovered in the air and seemed so be waiting for them in nervously bobbing anticipation. Merlin sent it ﬂying again once they had reached the mouth. It was too narrow for both their horses the get in at the same time, so they had to lead them in one after the other.

"I really hope this gets a bit wider. For both our sakes," Arthur commented while he followed after Merlin, who was tempted to say that the sphere was aware of their needs and that it wouldn't have led them here if the cave was too small, but decided to go for a curter "Don't worry, it will" instead.

Soon, they heard the light gurgling sound of water and only a moment later entered a huge chamber. Arthur gave a low whistle. "Well, that should suffice." He led his horse over to the cave wall and started unloading their provisions. Merlin observed him, before his gaze drifted over the source of the sound. At the opposite end of the cave there was another tunnel from where it came. He sent a second sphere flying to follow the little rivulet of water, which led him to an adjacent cavern with springs.

With some unexpected glee he observed the vapours raising from the water, then he shouted back in Arthur's direction: "There are hot springs over here!"

That had the king stomping over rather quickly.

"That," he pointed at the steaming water, "is the first really good news you have given me in about a week." He clapped Merlin on the shoulder and unceremoniously shoved the saddle bag at him. "Why don't you make us dinner, while I freshen up."

Under normal circumstances Merlin would probably have bristled at Arthur's egoistical behaviour but right now he mostly felt relieved. A warm bath would really be a reprieve from the constant rain and cold of the last few days, and hopefully also of Arthur's sour mood. So he just shook his head and started moving back towards the big chamber, while Arthur was already unfastening his belt. "Could you also make a bit more light in here? And maybe in something other than blue."

"What, now you want mood lighting?" Merlin huffed, but still made two more spheres appear and changed their colour scheme to a warm yellowish gold that imitated torch light. Arthur gave a satisfied nod.

With that Merlin retreated and first focused on taking care of the horses. The beasts had faced the ascent and the bad weather bravely and certainly deserved a night inside the warmer cave instead of outside in the cold mountain air. As he brushed them down Arthur's mare gave a little neigh. "At least you are easier to please than your master," he muttered in low amusement.

"The cave carries," Arthur called in a mock cheerful fashion from the other room.   
Merlin took a deep breath. That was just his luck.  "It's no secret that you're hard to please, Sire," he threw back a little louder.

"Oh, what? Something that isn't a secret?! Be still, my heart."

"Oh shut up, you prat," Merlin muttered under his breath, while fiddling with their bedrolls.

"The cave still carries," Arthur's voice returned, then there was a splashing sound.

After a few minutes of relatively pleasant silence - at least on Merlin's part - he heard Arthur's voice again. "You know what I don't understand? If Morgana really wants to help us, as you claim...", "as she claims," Merlin threw in. He felt it made an important difference.

"Alright, as she claims. Then why don't you just summon her and ask her what she knows?"

Admittedly, he had toyed with the idea too. But summoning the dead was a complicated matter.   
"It doesn't work like that," he answered gingerly while he jerked the bedrolls into place. There was only the sound of water after that and even without seeing it, Merlin could imagine Arthur scrunching up his face.

"What about my father then?" he asked, and after a pause he added, "What about Lancelot?"

"Those were different," Merlin answered. "Uther was accidentally summoned by you. The only thing me and Gaius did, was make him visible. And Lancelot... I don't really know what Morgana did there. He wasn't a ghost and he wasn't alive. I'm not even sure it was really Lancelot we saw. So, yeah..." he left the rest unsaid.

"So, you can't summon her," Arthur summarized. Merlin grimaced.

"Not that I know of. She is here out of her own volition. I could only try the visibility spell and see if it stabilizes her apparition. But then, I don't know that spell by heart. Besides, do you really want Morgana here constantly?"

He couldn't really make out Arthur's reply, but it was clear it wasn't a favourable one. A small grin spread on his face. "I'll go out and secure the area. And after that you'll have to vacate those cosy springs because I really want a dip too."

"The king won't let himself be thrown out of his bath, Merlin," Arthur retorted haughtily.

"We'll see about that," he whispered and got up.

* * *

 

The hot water was really a delight. He listened to the sounds of the spring while he felt his sore muscles relax. The days on the road had worn him down more than they used to. It might have to do with the nature of their quest, but just as likely was the cause to be found in his more advanced years these days. Not that he would ever say that out loud.

He had his head propped against the warm stone and his eyes were only half open. Merlin wouldn't get him out of here anytime soon.

"Arthur?" Oh, speak of the devil. Arthur forced one of his eyes open. Merlin was standing at the pool's edge, draped in a floor-length black cloak that had Arthur wondering briefly if he had ever seen the garment on him before. He dismissed the thought quickly though when Merlin started fiddling with the clasp in the front.

"You won't get me out of here," he repeated.

Merlin shot him a wink that definitely looked off on his face and made Arthur lift his head.

"That won't be necessary," he made a sweeping gesture over the pool, "it's quite big enough for two."

Al-right, Arthur felt slightly discomfited by that. He observed as Merlin shed the cloak and then started undoing the lacing of his trousers. Merlin's proximity wasn't something new, they had shared a tent or even a bed often enough. But it’d been quite a while since he had actually seen Merlin naked. Part of him was glad that the hot water had already tinged his skin in a rosy glow. He coughed and averted his gaze as Merlin stepped out of his trousers.

There were some other movements he only caught out of the corner of his eye and part of his brain supplied surprise that there was no undignified one-legged hopping involved when Merlin got out of the rest of his clothes.

He was just about to glide into the water when Arthur mustered the courage to properly look at him again. He still caught a little glimpse of the root of his cock, nestled into raven curls before the hot water swallowed it up. Arthur immediately tensed up again. And Merlin, the disrespectful git, had the audacity to laugh.

“Oh, shut up.” He splashed some water in his direction, which only seemed to amuse Merlin more and led to some full-fledged water fight when the retaliation came.

Arthur retreated to his corner a few minutes later. His hair soaking wet and breathing harder than before. Merlin still had a self-satisfied grin on his face, but apart from that looked about as dishevelled as Arthur. "We should do that more often," he joked. Arthur felt like pushing his head under water some more.

The sound of the water eventually calmed both of them down. It echoed of the stone walls and made Arthur's eyelids feel excruciatingly heavy. He heard Merlin hum a little melody that sounded strange yet familiar at the same time. It fit eerily well with the sounds of the spring and seemed to resonate from somewhere deep within him. It was awfully hard to force his eyes open again and focus on Merlin's blurry form, which had shifted closer and was now right beside him.

Surprisingly cool fingers touched his upper-arm. "Arthur, I know you are angry with me..."  
Merlin's voice was soothingly low. It was really hard to concentrate on what exactly it said and not just be lulled by its tone. Arthur moved into the touch. "But there is so much going on right now. I could help you, lift some of the burden..." As if to make a point the fingers moved to Arthur's shoulders, kneading the tense flesh there. Arthur groaned.

"You always do... always try," he pressed out. "Sometime you make things harder."

Merlin chuckled, Arthur ignored it. Right now he felt like he could forgive the idiot's ill-timed humour and just lean into these sorcerous hands that were working their magic along his stiff neck muscles. Over the years Merlin had given him many massages. Most of the time after intense training sessions, and sometimes after a long outing and some restless nights on too thin bedrolls. But never had he been so acutely aware that a sorcerer literally had his hands wrapped around his neck. The part of him that sounded suspiciously like Uther was throwing a fit, but at the same time he just felt tired. Tired of distrusting Merlin. So he let go of the breath he hadn't realised he was holding.

While Arthur enjoyed the surprisingly skilful treatment, he also felt Merlin's thigh brush against his own. Under the water's surface Merlin's skin felt smooth and soft. It made him focus almost more on that point of contact than on the hands on his back. Then he groaned. Merlin had found an especially tense spot and was now kneading with abandon. It made his eyes roll back into his head. At the same time Merlin was shifting closer. His own legs bracketing Arthur's now. Actually, he could feel big parts of Merlin's lower half pressed against his own. Arthur wasn’t sure he liked it.

"Relax," Merlin murmured, but it had the entirely opposite effect on him. So Arthur only gave a non-committal hmpf and shifted a little bit further away from Merlin, who of course immediately closed the gap between them again. It seemed like the perfect analogy for their relationship at the moment, and it made him feel frustrated.

"Merlin," Arthur said and hoped it sounded stern. He grabbed for Merlin's hand on his shoulder. "I think it's quite enough for now. Why don't you," he paused and couldn't believe he was about to say that to the lazy twat, "take a little break too. Sit back and enjoy the water."

Merlin chuckled, but his finger slipped from underneath Arthur's and removed themselves from his skin. He sidled up next to Arthur. "Alright, Your Highness." In a demonstrative fashion he leant back against the warm cave wall and closed his eyes.

Arthur stared at him, a frown edged into his features. Merlin looked almost serene surrounded by the spring’s rising vapours and cast into the glowing spheres' magical light. But something felt wrong. The drip-drop of the water accompanied Arthur's troubled thoughts.

"Well, are you going to do something or not?" Merlin asked with his eyes still closed.  
"And what would that be?" he retorted, still more focused on the waters' uneven cacophony.

"Oh, you know..." Merlin was suddenly right next to him, his wrist in a merciless grip. Arthur flinched violently, but Merlin only rewarded him with a slightly crazed grin and pulled Arthur's hand towards himself.

"You know... the things that you normally barely dare to think about...those that linger at the back of your head as distorted, not fully formed images."

Underneath the water's surface, Arthurs's fingers brushed against the skin Merlin's stomach, right above the line where the raven curls started. Arthur felt panic rising. "What, are you doing?! Stop it!" He tried to rip his hand from the other man's grip, but the sorcerer was strong.

"Arthur," Merlin purred and his eyes sparkled in an unnatural golden colour, "don't deny it. I know your desires better than you yourself do. So stop struggling and just let it happen."

His hand was pushed downwards and he felt the wiry quality of Merlin's pubic hair against his fingertips. Everything was amplified in its intensity, especially how wrong Merlin felt and sounded.

“What are you doing?! Stop it now, I said no!” Arthur pushed his free hand against the other man’s chest but it caused about as much a reaction a pushing against the cave wall. Arthur felt something akin to fear clawing up its way along his spine as he shouted at Merlin’s smirking visage. “Stop!”

Then his fingertips grazed hard flesh and Arthur had to close his eyes in shock and shame. Merlin moved these motionless fingers along his shaft, so that they trailed the length of it. “That’s it, that’s good,” he whispered, while his iron grip didn’t relent in the slightest. He leant into Arthur, who still tried to keep him away as far as possible, and whispered, “Just g-…”

“What’s going on here?!”

The voice came from the passage that led to the main cavern, where a pretty dishevelled looking, yet clothed in his usual garb, Merlin stood.

Arthur stared at the apparition, then back to the Merlin in the water, who hadn't even bothered to look back but whose features were now distorted into an angry grimace. He let go of Arthur and in a manner that was certainly too fast to be considered human, whirled around and tore into the other’s direction. From one second to the next, everything was in upheaval.

Swirling water and steam clouded Arthur’s vision, but he could make out a muffled thump, then a groan. Something within him knew that it had come from the Merlin that had just entered. He pushed his own rigid body from his spot in the pool and approached the commotion. He didn’t know what to do, but he’d still do something!

There was more shouting – most of the words indistinguishable to Arthur - that he realised too late what imminent danger he was in when the naked form of the other Merlin came hurtling towards him. His back crashed into Arthur and flung both of them against the unforgiving cave wall. Arthur felt the air fleeing from his lungs and for a moment his vision went black.

* * *

  
  
"Arthur.... Arthur? By the gods, are you alright?" the concerned voice of Merlin asked.

Arthur forced his eyes to open, things coming into focus only sluggishly. The world around him was still slightly spinning, but when he felt the other man's warm hands on him, trying to help him into an upright position, Arthur brushed them off vehemently.

"Who are you?" he pressed out. There was only one Merlin there, but the alarming memory of what had just happened came crashing back with a vigour that everything within him had literally baulked at the touch.

"I...I'm Merlin," he said. There was something so helpless in his voice that Arthur could only snort derisively. "Sure." He shouldered past the intruder, ignoring the fact that the other man was in the water up to his hip, his blue and red clothes entirely soaked.

"Arthur," he called after him. "You're bleeding. Please, let me help... there's a scratch on your back."

Arthur continued on his way but felt the throbbing in his shoulder area keenly. He even believed the ridiculous creature in the water that there might be some blood, but he didn’t care. Right now he wouldn’t allow anybody to lay a finger on him!  
"Stay where you are," he called back without turning around, "and only come into the cavern when I call you." Merlin obeyed.  
  
Arthur dressed and his whole back ached while doing it. Still, he forced himself into new clothes, absentmindedly petted his horse and then got down to sit on his bedroll. Restlessly he shifted position but ultimately had to admit to himself that he probably had to face the waiting sorcerer at one point or another. So he called.  
  
He didn't really know how long he had made Merlin wait, but it'd certainly been a while as since the other man had changed out of his soaking clothes too and now came padding in barefoot on the cold cave floor.   
Under normal circumstances Arthur would have had a good laugh at Merlin's expense as he made quite the ridiculous picture with his still damp tunic hanging to his mid-thighs that were otherwise bare. But it was the sight of exactly these scrawny white legs that revealed too much of the things Arthur didn't want to face right now that made him avert his gaze.  
  
Merlin stopped dead in his tracks. There was a frown edged into his still oh so concerned face as he clumsily held the bundle of wet clothes in front of him.  
"What happened, Arthur?" His voice was serious but emoting a certain fake calmness. Arthur felt like giving another derisive huff and otherwise ignoring the fool.  
  
"Well, what do you think happened," he retorted instead and tried to make it sound as acidic as possible. He still pointedly wasn't looking at Merlin.  
  
Merlin shrugged and dumped the clothes next to his own bedroll. Without much ceremony he sat down and crawled under the blanket. It covered his naked legs completely.  
"You got attacked by the Sidhe imposter," he finally stated gravely.

That sounded wrong, insufficient for what had truly happened. But what was there to say? Arthur shook his head slightly, frustration gnawing on every fibre of his being.  
“Funny that you’d call the other one the impostor,” he knew he was lashing out but he couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. “Right now, I’m not even sure you’re the real Merlin… or if there even is such a thing.”

A look of obvious hurt crossed the other man’s features. “Arthur, you must know…”   
He gestured helplessly between them. “You must feel it, the difference. You know me, after all.”  
Merlin’s eyes were huge and pleading. _Believe in me, in our friendship_ they were saying, but something hard and unforgiving had had taken hold of Arthur this very instant. His mouth twisted into a sneer, “I know nothing anymore. Who you are, if you’re good or bad. Sorcerers, Sidhe, you’re all the same to me. And you all do nothing but cause turmoil.”

Neither of them slept that night.

* * *

 

They didn’t speak anymore. Not at night and not in the morning. They had had tense days before, but never quite like this. Because when Arthur finally was roused from his exhausting not-sleep daze, Merlin had already been up and about.

Their horses were waiting outside the cave, making meagre attempts at grazing the scarce green. The air was crisp, almost painfully so, and little clouds of steam rose from their nostrils. Arthur deliberately rubbed his hands together, part of him probably expecting Merlin to comment, but nothing happened. Instead the other man wordlessly got on his horse, all provisions already packed, and ready to proceed on their disastrous journey. Arthur felt slightly vexed by this mute efficiency, but mounted his own ride nonetheless. His back ached all the while.

This time Merlin rode ahead the narrow mountain path. It had got significantly more arduous the higher they ascended. Arthur wondered how much longer they could actually stay atop their horses before it became too dangerous for them and the animals. He felt inclined to ask Merlin but refused to break the silence. He observed the rhythmic movement of Merlin’s back, fully in sync with the clacking of his horse’s hooves, and realised that the other man hadn’t looked back even once. It only strengthened his resolve.

By now they were also so far up that they had a good view of the lands below them. All of this was still part of Camelot and the sublimity of the snow-covered peaks and the green valley stretching from the foot of the mountains evoked, despite everything that had happened, a vague notion of pride within Arthur. There was even a patch of morning sun that broke through the clouds above and illuminated the landscape. ~~~~

 “Merlin,” it came over his lips involuntarily, almost as an afterthought to the view. Arthur regretted the slip immediately.

The other man stopped dead in his tracks. “Yes, Arthur?”

Arthur swallowed. He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to say. He took a deep breath.  
“About yesterday… I’m… I feel my words have been too harsh, I was….” He was _upset_ , but he left that unsaid, hoping Merlin would understand anyway. There was only so much weakness a man could admit to.

“I know,” Merlin said. There was guilt edged into his pale features when he fully turned towards Arthur. “I’m sorry you were alone with him for so long. I shouldn’t have dawdled.”  
Arthur impulse reaction was to agree, but instead he said, “You couldn’t have known.”

Another uncomfortable silence fell upon then, only this time both parties seemed anxious to break it.  
  
“Do you want to talk about it?”, “Do you think he’ll be back?” they both asked at the same time.

After a moment of confused staring and an awkward huff Arthur repeated, “Do you think he’ll be back?” Merlin tensed.   
“It’s quite possible,” he answered hesitantly, then hastened to add more assertively, “but that’s why we’re here. It’s not far anymore. The cave should be just around the corner.”

It turned out, the cave wasn’t just around the next corner – it was around the next three corners and they even had to get down to make the last two of them. But they had arrived and were now standing in front of a surprisingly big – gaping, something in Arthur supplied – mouth to another cave.

It was really quite different from what Arthur had imagined, because this looked more like a giant maw with stalactites for teeth. Besides, it was so huge five of them stacked atop each other would have fit in. He shot Merlin a slightly alarmed look, who only shrugged and fastened his horse’s reins around a rock.

“It might be better if I go in there alone. I don’t know how he’ll react to you.”

Arthur nodded absent-mindedly, his gaze still glued to the threatening entrance. “Are you sure it’s safe?” he muttered more to himself.  
“Oh yes, for me it’s absolutely safe.” And after a pause he added, “And I’ll make sure I’m back as fast as I can.”   
Arthur grimaced.  “I’m not some damsel in distress, Merlin.” Something offended had slipped into his tone that even the vigorous fastening of his own horse’s reins couldn’t gloss over. Merlin nodded dutifully but took a step back towards Arthur, studying him for a moment.  
“Maybe a code word would useful. You know… so you know it’s really me…”

“A code word? What exactly did you have in mind?” Arthur was frowning but at the same time Merlin had clearly piqued his interest.

“I don’t know,” Merlin looked around, “what about _saddle bag_?” He pointed to the one Arthur had just been about to remove from their provisions. Arthur squinted at the thing in his hands, then back at Merlin. “That’s ridiculous.”

“What? Why? You can easily work _saddle bag_ into a conversation,” Merlin was gesturing dramatically between the bag and their general surroundings. “Arthur, have you restocked the saddle bag? Arthur, we forgot that saddle bag in the last town. Arthur, the saddle bag needs to be fixed because it has a hole.”

Arthur still looked rather unconvinced, but then just shook his head and conceded. “Alright, let’s take _saddle bag_. For the record, I still think it’s an exceedingly dumb code word.” He crossed his arms over his chest while Merlin looked as triumphant as if the king had just told him he would get a rise. It reminded Arthur of the fact that a talking Merlin wasn’t necessarily a more agreeable Merlin.

The mood sobered quickly though when Merlin turned back towards the cave entrance.  
“Alright, I’m going in now. Don’t worry, it shouldn’t take long, I hope.” Arthur raised an eyebrow.  
“And you know the code word!” Merlin waved by far too cheerily before he stepped over the teeth and got swallowed up by the cavern’s shadows. Arthur’s eyes kept following him until he could no longer make out his stupid manservant’s silhouette.

And then he was alone. On a mountain, in front of a creepy, mythical cave. Arthur looked at his horse, which seemed by far more at ease with the situation than he was. In fact, his mare was happily nuzzling her head against the neck of Merlin’s horse, as if the two of them couldn’t be more content. Arthur felt an irrational wave of resentment towards the beast. “Traitor,” he muttered and then proceeded to lower himself against one of the not so sharp looking rocks in front of the cave.

He wasn’t entirely sure what exactly it was he was afraid of. The doppelganger? Yes, maybe.   
Arthur very much wanted to tell himself that he had learnt from the encounter last night and as such would be able to handle a renewed attempt on his person better – no matter of what nature it may be – but he wasn’t sure. It was the feeling of utter powerlessness against this creature that had truly shaken him and left him more fretful than he liked to admit. ~~~~

He sighed and took the water skin out of the saddle bag – and scrunched his nose up while doing so. Stupid saddle bag. Stupid Merlin going into the cave alone. It bothered him that he wasn’t there while Merlin was literally consorting with sorcerers - other sorcerers.

Merlin hadn’t said much about his so-called standard plan B, or who exactly the person was he was meeting. Only that it was another sorcerer he often sought advice from when he didn’t know what to do, and that said sorcerer was by now too old and frail to leave his cave.   
Sometimes Arthur secretly wondered why these ancient sorcerers always lived in caves or hovels, but then mentally scolded himself. Of course they didn’t. Most lived undercover in normal society, with nobody really the wiser about their powers. Merlin was a good example, and this mysterious sorcerer probably wasn’t any different, just meeting them here to keep up the pretence of mysticism and alternative living. Arthur snorted. He already disliked him.

In the distance there was a rumble. Arthur looked up and spotted an ominously dark wall of clouds approaching from the distance. Gone was the patch of light from before.   
He clambered back to his feet. Even though it would take a while until the storm reached them, it might be better to go and warn Merlin. Besides, it gave him a pretext to get involved and stop twiddling his thumbs out here. Arthur nodded to himself and stepped over the row of pointy rocks that marked the cave’s entrance. He knew he’d promised Merlin to let him sort out the other sorcerer by himself, but he wanted to know what kind of deal the idiot struck this time. After all he was the king, it was his business.

It didn’t take him long until he could make out the distorted voices of Merlin and the other sorcerer. They were still obscured from view, but he was pretty sure that if he called out to them they would have heard him. Something within him though seemed to assume that observing two sorcerers undetected might be more insightful, so he made his way ahead as carefully and noiselessly as possible.

_“It wasn’t supposed to go like this. They cheated me!”_ Merlin’s voice sounded aggravated but apart from that pretty normal - the cave’s echo gave it a somewhat three-dimensional quality. However, when Merlin’s opponent answered, Arthur almost jumped in fright. The voice sounded… huge.

_“This is the reward you reap for trying to cheat destiny, young warlock. With your actions you unravelled the fabric of the world. Arthur was supposed to die, yet you were unwilling to accept that and in this provided opportunity for the Sidhe to make use of you.”_

Arthur shook his head, trying to get over the voice’s otherworldly quality. The message itself wasn’t something he wanted to linger on either, but it was vastly overshadowed by the voice, which truly unsettled him and had his hair stand on edge.

“ _I didn’t want him to die_ ,” Merlin threw back in. It was a nice sentiment, but Arthur needed and at the same time dreaded to hear the other voice again instead. ~~~~

“ _Your personal feelings and desires cloud your judgement. The once and future king will return when the time is right, I told you so.”_

A picture was manifesting before Arthur’s eyes. It had his heartbeat picking up a manic rhythm.

_“When? In a thousand years? I can’t wait that long. I’m here now!”_

_“You will be there, too. Your destinies are intertwined, two sides of the same coin. Your selfishness is what brought all of this about_ ,” the voice rebuked and left only heavy silence to follow.

Arthur was shaking. He knew now who Merlin was talking to. Everything within him wanted to deny it, but it was there right in front of him. He gripped his sword a little tighter and stepped from behind the rock he’d been hiding… ready to fight to the death.

The cave’s main cavern was just as enormous and threatening as its outside had been. Everything was plunged into the blue light, while Merlin was standing on a little platform right in the middle of it, being dwarfed by the form of an enormous dragon – _the dragon_.

Arthur could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Still, he drew closer. Merlin had his back to him, but the dragon’s eerie yellow eyes had detected him and followed his every movement.   
Seeing the monster up close was a shock in itself but Arthur wouldn’t relent and took a protective stance right in front of Merlin, his sword pointed at the beast and ready to strike.  
  
“You didn’t tell me you were asking a monster for advice,” he pressed through gritted teeth, without looking back. Merlin, obviously torn between surprise, panic and weariness, took a deep breath and said: “Arthur, this is Kilgharrah, also known as the Great Dragon.” Lower he added, “Don’t call him a monster, he resents that.”

Arthur’s reality seemed to falter for a second. Instinctively, he turned his head to stare at the absurdity that was Merlin. An inobservance the beast used smartly to topple Arthur over with its huge snout. He landed on his backside, his sword skidding across the ground. In a moment of sheer blind panic, he realised that he was entirely defenceless and tried to scramble after it, but Merlin grabbed his shoulders and held him back.

“Arthur, Arthur! Stop! It’s alright, he won’t hurt us.”

But Arthur didn’t want to hear it. He only saw the beast that had set his hometown aflame and killed countless people. So he strained against Merlin, who he was sure should be unable to hold him back without the help of this damnable magic.

“Let go of me!” he roared. He was terrified and utterly furious at the same time.  
Thoughtlessly he clawed at Merlin and the hands holding him in place, but to no avail. It was entirely the same as the night before. All these sorcerers were entirely the same!

“How dare you take this monster’s side?! You’re nothing but a fucking traitor!”

The grip slackened and Arthur used his chance to throw off Merlin. He dived for his sword, whirled around and pointed it at the sorcerer.

“You’re the fake again, aren’t you?!” he bellowed.

“Arthur, please,” Merlin’s voice sounded breathy, his hands lifted in a placating gesture. “It’s me. We spoke about it. The code word, it’s saddle bag. You’re safe, nobody will hurt you.” He looked at Arthur pleadingly but the other man didn’t relent. Instead his gaze flickered wildly between the unblinking beast in the corner and Merlin.

“Nobody will hurt me?! What do you think you and that dragon just did?!” he sounded almost hysteric now, brandishing his sword. “Don’t come any closer!”  
  
“Arthur, please. It’s all a misunderstanding. We’re here for Kilgharrah’s help.” Merlin was obviously trying to give his voice a soothing quality. He took a step closer with his hands raised, trying to look non-threatening. 

“It’s the plan we discussed,” he continued, “I told you I would ask my friend about our Sidhe problem.”  
“Your friend?!” Arthur screeched and Merlin immediately noticed his error in phrasing. “That thing’s your friend?!”   
Merlin mouthed another “Please, Arthur, listen to me”, but the other man was in a frenzy.   
“It’s one thing to tell me the monster’s still alive. But now you claim it’s your friend, that really goes too far! On whose side are you even?!” Arthur shouted.  
  
“On yours!” Merlin shouted back, but the damage was done.  
Arthur shook his head, desperately fighting to hold back his emotions. “No.”  
He aimed his sword for Merlin’s throat. “No, I can’t believe you. I’ve had enough of you!”

“Arthur!” He took an instinctual step closer but blade grazed his throat. Merlin recoiled, his hand pressed against the cut.

“Don’t follow me. If I see you again, I’ll run you through without asking which one you are first.”  
And with these harsh words Arthur turned around and staggered out of the cave, ignoring the anguished cry behind him.

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fake!Merlin approaches Arthur in the springs, pretending to be the real Merlin. After giving him a massage, he tries to seduce Arthur and forces him to touch his dick. The real Merlin stumbles in and after a short fight chases the fake off.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: killing and consumption of an animal, mild (implied) drugging, kissing with dubious consent

“Why did you have to do that?” Merlin was pacing in front of the unresponsive dragon. Outside, the storm was raging, which made the cave whistle and moan in its very own way, and only seemed to agitate the young sorcerer more. “You know he’d panic if you toppled him over. It’s as if you were provoking him on purpose.” Merlin’s hands moved frantically along with his steps. He looked dishevelled and frenzied while the dragon still hadn’t moved and barely kept his eyes open.

“Arthur had already passed judgment on both of us. Words would have been futile. Nothing can right the perceived wrongs, so spare your breath, young warlock, and focus on what is truly important,” he finally answered gravely.

Merlin stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the dragon. There was true despair reflected in his expression. “I don’t know what to do, Kilgharrah,” he said.  
  
Kilgharrah still didn’t open his eyes. Instead his posture stayed eerily unmoving, almost like stone. There was something heavy in the air.

“Emrys.”

Merlin stiffened as the word hung between them. Kilgharrah had never called him by that name before. He searched for the dragon’s yellow gaze.

“It is your name now. You are Emrys, the most powerful magic in all the land of Albion. If you don’t know what to do, who else would?”  
Merlin shook his head. “Please don’t do this to me,” he pleaded, but the dragon continued as if he hadn’t heard.  
“The time of your apprenticeship is over. I can help you no longer, as my own time has come to an end. I bid you farewell at the lake, yet still you came here. Though part of me was hoping the young Pendragon would use that eternal sword of his to ease my suffering, I know I will never leave this place again.”

“Kilgharrah.” Merlin’s voice had taken on a chocked quality. He took a step closer to the dragon, touching his hand to the huge creature’s hide in an almost reverent manner.  
“I thought…” The rest of the sentence remained unsaid. Merlin shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. Eventually he forced out a hoarse “Why didn’t you say so immediately?”.  
  
“Your mind was set on the same quest your heart has been governed by for years. A destiny cannot be ignored.”

Merlin hiccupped. He rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. “So you were provoking him on purpose.”

Kilgharrah gave a little puff and Merlin felt the heat of the dragon’s breath engulfing him. It wasn’t as hot as it used to be, still it calmed him a little.

“Pendragons have a temper. Arthur, though he flares brightly, also cools quickly. You should follow him before the other one gets to him.”

“And what good would that do? You said you can’t break the Sidhe spell,” Merlin retorted in exasperation. He had sat down beside Kilgharrah, his back against the dragon’s rapidly cooling side.

“I cannot. The Sidhe magic is its own special brand. Only a Sidhe could help you with that. Luckily – or unluckily – for you there is one only a step behind, waiting in the shadows to lure your king away.”

Merlin turned his head to nuzzle against Kilgharrah’s scaly skin. It was a weird, involuntary urge, but he felt cold. The noises from the storm raging outside didn’t help things either. Another sob was threating to escape his throat.

“They were always after Arthur, weren’t they?” he pressed out.

“They were. But you can use it against them, as they are using it against you. Catch the impostor, make him talk, and then ban the Sidhe.”

Merlin felt exhaustion taking over. “That’s easier said than done.”  
The dragon chuckled. “You’ll find a way. Only Emrys could unravel the threads of destiny and arrange them anew.” Even as the dragon’s fading warmth eased Merlin into sleep, Kilgharrah’s soft words reached his ears clearly. “Mind, it will cost you everything, but you shall do it. Of that I am certain.”

Merlin didn’t know how much time had passed when he awoke again. The storm was over and there was even some weak morning light illuminating the cave’s mouth. Merlin yawned and at the same time felt himself shiver. It was a strange sensation. He turned toward Kilgharrah, who had his own huge head bedded on his claws and his eyes closed. The dragon looked almost peaceful.  
  
Merlin got up sluggishly. Every single one of his joints ached and had a horrible crick in the neck. With a groan he tried to roll his shoulders. “Your harder than rock, Kilgharrah,” he muttered.  
  
“That is quite an accurate statement.” The dragon didn’t move. Actually, his low rumbling voice sounded worryingly flat and slurred.  Still slightly dazed, Merlin turned around. What he saw though didn’t make any sense.  
  
Behind him was nothing but solid stone. He took a step back, then another. His eyes widened in horrified wonder. “Oh Kilgharrah, you…. you are…”

“Returning to the element that brought me and all my brethren forth.”

Merlin stared and stared. The dragon’s hindquarters had already been turned to stone in their entirety. Big parts of his belly, as well as his wings were also greying, and it was obvious that any kind of movement was a strenuous effort for the dragon.  
  
Merlin felt like running over and extending his magic in an attempt to help, but rationally he knew that even he couldn’t stop the process that had begun.

“Do not worry, Emrys. I embrace death as the next part of my journey.”

 Another wave of hot tears was welling up behind his eyes and Merlin had to press the heels of his hands against his lids to stop them from breaking free. “Please don’t leave me,” he croaked.  
“I still need you. I wouldn’t know what to do without your advice, Kilgharrah. I’m still so…. lost.”  
He looked up. The dragon’s skin was entirely grey now, and parts of his very extremities were starting to show little cracks.  
  
“Those that bind themselves forever to this world have enough time to find their path. So don’t despair. Two sides of one coin cannot be separated.”

Merlin pressed himself against the cold stone of what had been Kilgharrah’s body. He was crying openly now, and the dragon was still.

It took him too long to get up after that, he knew. But saying goodbye to his friend was a far harder feat than he'd anticipated. He didn’t want to leave the dragon-shaped rock behind, yet at the same time it pained him to look at it. In the end, he could only place his hand against it one more time and whisper a quiet “Farewell.”

He stumbled outside, disorientated and feeling beside himself. The sky was crisp and clear now, but there was also a chill in the air. Merlin took a deep breath, then another one, and looked around.

Of course, the horses were gone. He couldn’t say it surprised him, but the prospect of walking down the mountain didn’t exactly thrill him either. Especially in view of the fact that Arthur was a whole day ahead of him and being hunted by an evil fairy.

“Great,” he mumbled to himself and started moving.

* * *

 

Arthur took the horses. He knew that left Merlin stranded up there in the dragon cave and as such served as a strategic move, giving him the advantage of speed. At the other end of the valley the storm clouds formed an impervious dark wall with thunder accompanying the rataplan of the two horses. It was apparent he wouldn’t make it down the mountain before being caught in the storm, but it was a chance he had to take to get as much distance between himself and that cave as possible. ~~~~

The horses were panting heavily when he reached the smaller cave with the springs, where they had stayed the night before. Every fibre of Arthur’s body felt repulsed at the thought of going in there again, but by now his clothes were soaked through, the rain coming down in sheets and the horses shivering. He knew, rationally, that it was better to stop here than to proceed, but that didn’t diminish the feeling of dread that had once again taken hold of him.

He threw an involuntary glance over his shoulder. He had about four to five hours on Merlin. Besides, with the storm and the approaching night even the sorcerer was probably bound to stay where he was. That, of course, said nothing about the dragon but at least this cave was too narrow for the beast to enter. Which meant there was some good about the situation, or so Arthur tried to tell himself when he led the horses inside.

Even though it was warmer inside the confining walls of the cave, he felt as if a big block of ice had settled where his stomach was supposed to be. He looked around and checked every nook and cranny before he finally started to unload the provisions form the saddle bags. For a moment the thought occurred to him that with both horses gone, Merlin had neither food nor shelter, but then he dismissed the notion with an annoyed grunt. The treacherous sorcerer could take care of himself. Arthur gave a vigorous nod and unrolled his bedroll on the ground. Then he sat down and pointedly stared at nothing.

The flame of the little lantern next to him flickered and threw long dark shadows at the cave wall. He shivered while his eyes followed the moving shapes. The gurgling of the springs in the next cavern was taunting him, but it was already  bad enough that he had to seek shelter in here, he certainly wouldn’t set foot in there.

At some point his eyes must have fallen shut because when he came to again his surroundings had gone entirely black. In a wave of panic Arthur jumped to his feet, almost falling over in the process as he got himself tangled up in his own bedroll. Frantically he looked around, grabbing for the dagger at his belt, but it was only the sound of his own breathing that showed signs of animation inside this dark damp hole.

Arthur willed his heartbeat to calm down. It was fine, he was alone. His eyes adjusted slowly to the dark. He felt for the lantern on the ground. It had fallen over, which gave Arthur pause for a second before he could rationalize it away by saying that it had probably been his own trashing which caused that.

Lighting the flame was next to impossible in the dark though. Merlin would, of course, have been able to do it anyway, but he was a fucking sorcerer. So Arthur deliberated going outside, hoping against hope that there was some starlight between the heavy storm clouds. He felt his way outside along the wet wall. The storm wasn't over, but it had abated some. It still took him several attempts to light the lantern again.

When he came back to his bedroll, there was a little folded piece of paper lying on it. In a wave of irrational panic Arthur almost dropped the lantern again, when he jumped for his weapon. He scrutinized the innocent sheet of paper with his dagger pointed at it. Of course, nothing happened. And the voice at the back of his head was none too subtly supplying that he was making a fool out of himself. An attacker wouldn't bother leaving a note first. He knew that, it still took him quite a bit of effort to lower the weapon and pick it up.

In the flickering light of the lantern the note read:

_Dearest Arthur_

Despite his nerves, Arthur already felt himself bristling. That address was quite a bit too informal. He snorted.

_I apologize for my behaviour during our last encounter. It was by far too forward and as such entirely inappropriate. I also realise that it must have given you the wrong idea about my true intentions._

Arthur frowned. What was that person talking about? Naturally, he had an idea, but it belonged to the realm of things strictly repressed and never to be reflected upon again. He felt a shiver running down his spine.

_However, rest assured that my longing for you is truly eternal, in spiritual as well physical matters._

Arthur raised an eyebrow at that and decided not to ponder the sentence for too long.

_Come morning, I endeavour to make amends and show my benevolent intentions by giving back the things I have taken. Until then, I wish you a restful night._

_-M_

Arthur stared at the paper in his hands. Give back one of the things that were taken? He didn't understand.

There was also a smaller postscript scrawled at the bottom of the page he'd almost overlooked.

_PS: I commend your foresight in distancing yourself from the other one. A prolonged association would only have caused unnecessary friction._

The other one? Merlin? Arthur squinted at the phrase. None of this made any sense. Assuming – and this really made him uncomfortable – this was from the Sidhe impostor, then what was the point of it? He didn't need a peace offer! He crumpled the paper and threw it into some dark corner. He regretted it instantly, but he still forced himself to lie down on his bedroll instead of diving after it.  
He remembered what it said, he didn't need to see it again. At least that's what he told himself while he was lying on is back with his arms stoically folded over his chest. The note had mentioned morning anyway, so there probably wasn't anything more happening tonight. He closed his eyes. He didn't feel like sleeping at all, but he could try.

He stayed awake for most of the remaining night, no matter how much he tried to will himself to sleep. Occasionally, he fell into a light doze, but nothing that could have been considered truly restful. Morning finally announced itself with the impatient neigh of one of the horses. Arthur dragged himself up with a groan and hauled his aching body outside. Obviously it would have been easier to make use of the springs and go for a quick wash there, but he stayed true to his words and avoided the place like the plague. Outside the air was fresh and the sun was shining. It had an almost invigorating effect.

He shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight and took a deep breath.

"Hello," a voice said. Arthur whirled around and internally cursed the fact that he had left his dagger next to his bedroll.

There was a young woman standing there, shooting Arthur a tentative smile. She looked vaguely familiar. Arthur frowned. "Do I know you?"

"Oh, yes. I'm Brianna from the Crown. You know, the serving wench?"

Arthur's eyes widened. "You're back!" He stumbled over to her, feeling a slightly irrational need the check if she was real. Somewhat awkwardly he touched her hands. "Are you unhurt? When did you return? And what happened?"

The young woman, obviously rather discomfited by the bombardment of questions, pulled her hands free from Arthur's grasp and blushed slightly. "I'm in good health, milord. Your dark-haired friend led me here." Then, when Arthur didn't immediately react, she started looking around. "Where is he, by the way? He brought me here and told me that you would take me back to Thennos, but it's weird that he didn't stay. He's your friend, isn't he?"

Arthur felt his face contorting into a grimace. Was this Merlin's doing or the impostor's? He stood a little straighter, his eyes scanning the surrounding area too, but it was unlikely that either of the two would reveal themselves now. So he ignored the question and bid Brianna to wait while he got his supplies from inside the cave.

When he got back, he offered her Merlin's horse to ride on, but she declined, saying that she was too inexperienced a rider to stay atop on her own. Arthur eventually let her ride with him on his mare – a decision he came to regret quickly when the girl clung to him as if her life depended on it.

"So, what exactly do you remember of your abduction?" Arthur asked, slightly strained.  
Brianna stiffened even more. "Abduction, Sire? The last thing I remember is that your dark-haired friend approached me after we had locked up the tavern for the night. He asked me if I was a first-born, which I am. After that... well, I don't really remember all that much after that. But I woke in a clearing in the forest and then your friend took me to you."

Arthur nodded, even though that didn't make any sense at all. "Brianna, how much time do you think has passed since I and," he hesitated, "my friend came to your village?"

Again, she looked confused. "Well, that was yesterday."  
  
Arthur's eyebrows wandered upwards.  
  
"Or wasn't it?" Insecurity was spreading over her face.

Arthur took a deep breath. He wasn't sure how Brianna would react to the truth but he felt she deserved to know. "Actually, that was two weeks ago. You have been missing for two weeks and we, that means your village but also the knights of Camelot, have been looking for you."

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly. "Oh."  
"Well, you weren't the only one missing," Arthur thought necessary to amend. "There are other people, who have disappeared under similar circumstances. That's why it's especially important that you tell me everything you know."

The young woman seemed to be at a loss for words. Her mouth was still agape and her gaze flitted between Arthur and some indistinct point somewhere to his right. "I don't understand," she finally whispered.  
"Neither do we. That's why we need your help. We need to find out what happened to you and why… that person gave you back."  
"Gave me back? But who took me in the first place? Your friend said..." Brianna's hand clutched Arthur's tunic. "Your friend? Was he the one, who…." The rest of the sentence trailed off. She looked stricken.

Arthur shook his head. "We don't know for sure, but we assume that the person who came to your inn with me isn't the same as the one who approached you at night."  
A frown marred Brianna's face. "But he looked the same. Dark hair, nice smile, rather big ears. He -", "What did he wear?" Arthur interrupted.

Brianna seemed to ponder that question. "A cloak. A long and dark one. I thought it looked a bit ominous during the night, but because I'd seen him before I deemed it a silly sentiment."

Arthur nodded. "I thought so."

The clacking of the horses' hooves was the only thing that could be heard after that revelation. Brianna was studying Arthur's face, obviously hoping for more of an explanation, but the king had his gaze stoically fixed on the path ahead.  
"He wore something different this morning when I woke up though," she supplied carefully. It made Arthur prick up his ears. Without saying anything, his look implied for her to continue.

"It was a tunic, pretty shabby looking. I think it must have been blue at some point." Arthur groaned internally, he knew exactly what kind of shabby looking tunic she meant.  
"But he also wore a rather unusual necklace. I looked a bit like ivy that was growing over his shoulders, but it was metal, for sure." Brianna gave a little nod for added confirmation. "He said that he was grateful for my help saving the ki- you, but that it was time for me to go back now."

Now that had Arthur do a double take. He cleared his throat. "Save me? How?"  
Brianna shook her head. "I don't know, Sire. He didn't elaborate, and I was a bit woozy after he woke me, anyway. So I just followed him. Thinking about it, I’ve only really felt like myself again since I happened across you." She blushed again, but Arthur ignored it. This was all making less and less sense.

They continued on in silence after that.

The reached Sol shortly after midday. Without any detours through the forest, the distance was manageable. Arthur headed straight for _The Blue Sky_ , where he assumed his two remaining knights were dawdling away. Of course, that was probably doing Leon and Percival an injustice, who were really the most reliable and competent of all his knights, but the realization that they would very likely ask questions about Merlin's whereabouts had his mood drop to an even worse low. Brianna had, thankfully, caught on and refrained from making any more attempts at conversation, but that wouldn't happen with Leon and Percival.

He entered the inn and, unfortunately, was spotted by them immediately.

"Your Highness!" Leon practically announced through half of the taproom while he scrambled to his feet and rushed over to them. Percival, on the other hand, wore a slightly pained expression as he strolled over there much more leisurely. He obviously still remembered the order of inconspicuousness.  
"Arti, my friend," he clapped Arthur on his back and eyed Brianna curiously. "I see Merlin has switched genders." That elicited a laugh from Leon, who finally seemed to remember their incognito status as a group of friends, too.  
  
Arthur though, absolutely not in the mood for any kind of mischief, threw him a nasty look. "This is Brianna, gentlemen. She's from Thennos, the village Merlin and I stayed the night while we were on our way back after the battle of Camlann." When the two knights only stared back at him in incomprehension, he shook his head with an impatient huff. "She's the very first kidnapping victim."  
Now, that changed the way they looked at the young woman immediately, who in return fidgeted a little under the attention. "As it turns out the mysterious abductions didn't only start in Camelot, but immediately after," Arthur hesitated, "the lake."

He stomped over to the stairs that led to the guestrooms upstairs, expecting the others to follow him.  
"But Sire, why is she here and where have you found her? Is the culprit defeated?"  
Arthur stopped and whirled around. He levelled Leon, who had been so brave to voice the obvious questions, with a furious stare. "No, Sir Leon, the culprit isn't defeated yet. He, for whatever unfathomable reason, decided to just give her back. I don't know what the purpose of this tactical move is, but for now I'm grateful to just take what I can get."

Arthur ascended the stairs with heavy steps. He didn't even bother to ask if the knights still had their lodgings here, it was taken for granted. After a second of dumbfounded silence, they followed, but not before exchanging a sceptical look with each other.  
  
"Sire?" Percival finally asked tentatively when the man was already about to grab the knob on the door that led to the old room he had occupied last time. "Where is Merlin?"  
A hard expression spread over Arthur's face. "Not here," he said and forcefully opened the door.  
"And should we go and look for him?" Again, Percival phrased the question very carefully, eyeing Arthur's tense posture all the while.  
  
Arthur in response gave an especially derisive snort. "Merlin can take care of himself." He stepped into the room and without turning around added, "We shall continue our journey tomorrow to take Brianna back to her village. Until then you're dismissed." The door closed soundly into the knights' faces. Leon and Percival exchanged another look.

"That always happens when he has a fight with Merlin," Leon muttered under his breath while he turned to walk back to the taproom, and almost collided with Brianna who had followed them too.  
"Forgive me, my lady, I didn't notice you were here." Sheepishly he ran a hand through his hair.  
"No harm done," Brianna smiled a little, at both of them. "And I'm really no lady. I'm just a serving wench. Quite a confused one, at that."  
"Yes, the king is… upset," Leon retorted with a slightly pained expression.  
"It's because of his dark-haired friend, isn't it? Merlin?" Her gaze travelled back to the now closed door. "He got angry from the moment I mentioned that the dark-haired one had brought me to him."

"Merlin brought you back?" Percival chimed in with a frown on his face.  
Brianna shook her head. "Well, that's the part that confuses me. There apparently are two people who look the same. And the one who brought me back was… the wrong one, it seems."

Percival grimaced while Leon still looked as if he'd swallowed a particularly unpleasant one of Gaius' potions. Nonetheless he gestured for Brianna walk ahead and lead the way back to the taproom.  
"Maybe we can discuss this some more over something to drink."

"That's a very good idea, Sir. As a serving wench I find that ale helps with a lot of troubles," she chuckled a little.

* * *

 

The room felt foreign to him, even though it looked entirely the same since he had last frequented it. There were two small beds, one now unoccupied. Arthur paced the room restlessly, still he repeatedly found himself gazing at the bed that had during their previous stay been Merlin's. He didn't like admitting it, but he was wondering what the damned sorcerer was doing right now. Was he still in the dragon cave? Or in close pursuit?

Only a day ago, he'd dreaded the idea of Merlin coming after him, but now… he didn't know. Things had already taken a new and rather twisted turn and he didn't know what to make from it. The Sidhe impostor was obviously close by, which made Merlin's absence even more unsettling. He shivered involuntarily, so he forced himself to sit down. On his bed.

He drummed his fingers on his knees, his gaze flitting over to the window. For the blink of an eye he thought he saw something out there. Arthur jumped back to his feet and ran over to the window, but the late afternoon landscape of Sol remained unspectacularly normal and without any signs of unwelcome guests.

Arthur sighed and shook his head. He knew he was driving himself crazy. So he turned around and… immediately whirled back. There was something! He almost pressed his nose against the cold window pane, but there was something. Between the dark shade of the trees at the forest edge stood someone.

Arthur barely dared to blink. He didn't want to lose track of the shape again and fall victim to the assumption that he might have imagined it. So he forced his eyes on the figure, even though the hairs at the back of his neck were standing on end, giving non too subtle warning about what was lurking out there.

Then the shape moved. It stepped out of between the dark trees and waved. Or at least Arthur thought so. It was a bit hard to tell. He squinted.

There it was! It was clearly waving at him!

Arthur reeled back and felt an immediate need to check if was still alone in the room. Of course, he was, but he still went over to his discarded sword and grabbed the hilt. When he looked out the window again, the figure had vanished. He rolled his eyes at himself. How could it have been any different?

He eyed the sword in his hand again. The invitation had been clear. _Come out and join me in same dark forest_. Arthur snorted. Yet at the same time part of him seriously deliberated the possibility. The figured he'd seen had most likely not been Merlin, but it had also been Not-Merlin who had given Brianna back. The need to know what the meaning of that was weighed on his mind. Besides, armed with Excalibur the notion of facing the stranger again was not quite as panic-inducing as before. He believed in confronting – and overcoming – his fears, and his were literally waiting for him out there.

He grabbed the sword tighter and headed out.

When he passed the taproom, he made sure not to turn around for his knights. He didn't want them to follow him. Even though he knew going out there alone held a big amount of uncertainty and undeniable danger, he craved the solitary experience. His knights couldn’t really fathom his feelings on the matter anyway.

Arthur rounded the inn and headed towards the edge of the forest he'd been able to see from his window. From here everything looked entirely ordinary, but then, that had been the case too the first time he checked from his window.

He was approaching the line of trees, when out of the corner of his eyes he spotted a small movement. Instinctively his hand tightened around the sword hilt, but as it turned out, the movement belonged to a rather unimpressed grey rabbit, which observed Arthur out of far too intelligent yellow eyes.

Arthur watched the rabbit watching him. It was all rather ridiculous. Finally, he shook his head and in mock surrender lifted his hands off the sword again. That seemed to be deemed acceptable because the rabbit started to scamper into the trees. The whole thing happened quite a bit faster than expected because Arthur could only exclaim a rather startled "Hey!", before he had to jog after the thing.

Keeping up with the rabbit generally proved to be harder than anticipated.  The little beast was extremely agile and flexible, and darted through the scrub at a speed Arthur's long legs could barely hold pace with. Of course, he also got tangled up in some thorn bushes and other nasty green stuff which elicited more than one unsavoury curse. Finally, he stumbled out of the undergrowth and into a clearing, where he fell face first into a little rivulet of water.

A chuckle could be heard. "All regal grace and superiority."

Arthur looked up slowly, every bone in his body subconsciously resisting the movement.

In front of him, casually leaning against a dead tree trunk, was the impostor. Only this time he wasn't putting on much of a show of pretending to be Merlin. His features still bore an uncanny resemblance to his manservant, but with the golden eyes, a skin tone that was so pallid it was bordering on grey, and the ears – Arthur did a little double take there, they were pointed -  a confusion was rather unlikely. He also held the rabbit on his arm, but the animal's eye colour had reverted to a rather natural-looking brown as is was sniffing at the ivy necklace. Arthur felt a tiny bit relieved there before he braced himself up and tried to face his opponent with all the unflinching bravery he could muster. The Sidhe smirked.

"I'm glad you decided to come," the leisurely petted the rabbit's fur. "I fear we got off on the wrong foot. But you must understand that I was quite excited to meet you in such a steamy situation." Arthur snorted at the bad pun. With that kind of cheap humour he could almost live up to Merlin's persona.

Arthur wiped some mud off his face with one hand, but deliberately kept the other on his sword. "Why do you take Merlin's appearance?"

The Sidhe tsked but eyed him with unveiled amusement. "You're asking the wrong questions. The correct one is: Who are you?"

Arthur took a deep breath. Still, something told him that humouring the thing was probably the only way to go about this. "Alright then. Who are you?" he enunciated every word.

The Sidhe smiled, but there was something wicked about it. He pushed himself off the tree trunk and took a step to the side. Behind him the dead wood crumbled into a neat pile. It had Arthur widen his eyes in astonishment but also a certain amount of alarm. He observed warily as the sorcerer waved his hand over it and set it ablaze.

"What are you doing?" he pressed out through gritted teeth.  
"Making you more comfortable. You must be hungry. After all, you haven't eaten anything today."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "I don't see how-"  
He couldn't finish the sentence though as two big logs came zooming in and settled around the fire. The Sidhe gestured for Arthur to sit on one of them, who after a moment of disbelieving staring decided to comply. Trying to take all of this in made him weary. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are we done now?"

"Almost." The Sidhe had taken the spot opposite of Arthur, still gently petting the animal in his lap. His long white fingers ran lovingly through the rabbit's fur, until they settled on the tiny neck and squeezed. Everything happened in a rapid succession after that, Arthur barely had time to be stunned. The Sidhe twisted the rabbit's neck and with a movement that was almost too fast to properly process with the bare eye, skinned it. Arthur's mouth opened slightly forming an involuntary O.

"Now now, Your Highness, one would assume you've seen rabbits being prepared for a meal before," the thing teased. Arthur forced himself to close his mouth and respond with a scathing look.  
"I'm not going to eat this," he folded his arms over his chest.

The Sidhe seemed greatly unimpressed by that statement because he just continued preparing the rabbit and putting it into a nice sizzling position over the flames. "You don't know what you're missing out on. I'm at least as good a cook as the other one."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Why do you never call him by his name?"  
  
"That would be weird." The Sidhe rotated the rabbit slightly, its smell now wafting across the clearing. Without really wanting to, Arthur felt his stomach rumbling. He cursed himself for skipping breakfast and repeated mentally that he would be steadfast. He couldn't be bribed with food! The Sidhe only shot him a knowing look, it annoyed Arthur immeasurably.

"What's your name then?" He retorted.

"Why, Merlin, of course."

Arthur's mouth opened again, but he was still at a loss for words. He blinked. "I don't understand."

The Sidhe had his back to Arthur, his focus on the rabbit. It sounded almost negligible when he said, "let me tell you a story then." He fiddled some more with the stick, then turned his whole body around. Through the flames his golden gaze was boring into Arthur.

"A few years back - at the time you were actually engaged to Princess Elena - your manservant did something one would probably consider ill-advised." Arthur had to hold back a derisive snort. When did Merlin ever do something that wasn't ill-advised?

"He killed our elder, Melhegnir, to prevent you from marrying the changeling." Arthur opened his mouth to say something to that, but the Sidhe just continued, "You must know, our hierarchical system is quite a bit different from what you mortals have. As eternal creatures, we value wisdom and age beyond anything else. Even though there is a council of elders, one in particular holds the power to govern the Sidhe and the immortal realm of Avalon. Up until your manservant pulverized him, that was Melhegnir." Arthur swallowed. He didn't like the direction this tale was taking.

"Of course, your manservant didn't know that. He didn't bother to ask who he had just killed. But he should have. Because the Sidhe have laws for cases like this."

Through the flickering flames the golden gaze was fixed on him. Arthur felt himself shift under the weight of it, the Sidhe smirked in return.

" _Behold the fate of those you have conquered for you shall follow in their footsteps._ Who kills the king –", "becomes the king," Arthur finished, dread now starting to pool in his belly. The Sidhe nodded. "Your air-headed manservant though never stopped to contemplate the consequences of his actions, or that by ancient law he would have become the successor of the eternal throne. So when he, naïvely, came to beg for our help to save your life, we claimed what was ours by right."

Arthur rubbed his forehead. He was feeling pretty tired now. "So, Merlin – you are the new king of the Sidhe? And you are Merlin? But who is the other Merlin then?"  
"Well, king is maybe a bit too mortal a term, but yes, that is who I am," the Sidhe chuckled and took the rabbit off the flames. Arthur eyed his practiced movements. Strangely enough he found their familiarity comforting in this sea of confounding new information.  
  
"The other one if Merlin too. But he won't be for very much longer," he said and cut one of the rabbit's legs off. He held it out to Arthur, who without really thinking about it, took it.  
"Once the transfer is completed, there will only be me left. But with power as immense as Emrys' it takes a while."

Arthur stared at the leg in his hands, as if he didn't really know what to do with it. "Why are you telling me this?"  
"Because you'll be there too, of course." He shot Arthur a smile and then almost demonstratively took a bite out of his own haunch.

"And what do you want with me?"  
  
"Try the rabbit," the Sidhe said. Obviously the question round was over. Arthur sighed and studied the meat in his fingers. It still smelled good, but he wasn't sure… Then he took another deep breath and decided to throw caution to the wind. He took a bite. The meat was tender and succulent, and almost a bit too good considering under what circumstances it had been prepared.  
  
Before he knew it, the whole leg was devoured and only the bone left to cast into the flames. On the other side of the fire the Sidhe seemed pleased. But Arthur couldn't properly work himself up to be bothered by it. He felt sated and even vaguely content at the moment. It was certainly not the kind of emotional landscape he should be enjoying, but then, once again, he couldn't really be bothered.

"So will you tell me now?" he asked and stretched his legs in front of himself. The Sidhe regarded the action indulgently.  
  
"I will." He came over and sat down next to Arthur, who at the back of his head had a little voice reminding him that he probably shouldn't allow the other one so close. He retracted his legs and sat up a little straighter. Still, the feeling of warmth in his gut prevented him from being more concerned about the situation.  
  
He studied the other's face. The resemblance with Merlin was undeniable. The features were pretty much the same and apart from the rather unfortunate pointed ears – which made them appear even bigger than they already were – he could easily pass for the original. The only thing that really irked him were the eyes. The constantly magically illuminated golden eyes.

Something must have shown on Arthur's face, because from one moment to the next the shimmer started to fade and he was suddenly looking into the blue depths of what he had always known to be Merlin's eyes. "Oh."  
  
The Sidhe gently put his hand on Arthur's cheek, who to his own surprise didn't even flinch.  
"What I want with you is pretty much the same thing my counterfeit wants with you. Our desires coincide in that aspect." He gave Arthur a tender smile. "Of course, your manservant is a bit too caught up in social convention to properly name the things he feels, but that doesn't mean that they aren't there." He sidled up a little. Arthur noticed, but was still somewhat ensnared by those blue eyes. The long and pleasantly warm fingers travelled from his cheek to his neck, kneading the tense muscles there and drawing Arthur closer. The Sidhe touched his cheek to Arthur's. "I promise not to do anything you don't want. Last time I was too forceful, but that's not the way I want it to be. My feelings for you are truly eternal and as such the only thing I wish for is for you to be mine."  
  
That snapped Arthur out of his reverie. "What?"  
He pushed the other off him. "I'm never going to be yours," he practically spat that last word and hurriedly got up from his sitting position on the log. The Sidhe, however, grabbed for his wrist and wound his spindly fingers around it like a vice.

"Don't judge too quickly. Some things are destined to be, and the both of us know that your final destination was always and will always be Avalon." He let go off him.

Arthur stumbled backwards, his gaze darting back and forth between the still rather unfazed fairy and the woods behind him. Eventually, he decided to make a run for the woods.

* * *

 

Merlin walked. He walked, and he cursed under his breath. The target of his cursing varied between Arthur, the horses, Arthur taking the horses, the Sidhe, Morgana, the Sidhe again, Kilgharrah, and of course, for good measure, himself. Really, mostly himself.

He was about to reach the first cave with the springs, which was a blessing because, despite the improved weather, the sun was about to go down and he didn't really feel like spending a night out in the open with no kind of shelter. Also, his feet hurt terribly. He wondered briefly when he'd got so used to riding that a half-day march became too much.

Spending the night in the cave though also meant that the distance between him and Arthur increased. He was pretty sure the other man must have reached Sol by now – at least he hoped so. With Leon and Percival, Arthur would be slightly safer than on his own. Even though they wouldn't stand much of a chance against the impostor should he decide to make a move again. Merlin could have hit himself for letting Arthur go on his own. It was an utterly foolish choice brought about by his own hurt feelings and insecurities.  
By doing it, he'd played into the Sidhe's hands, he was sure of that now. But moping didn't help, so he entered the cave and quickly spotted tracks. The knowledge that Arthur had spent the night here left him with a knot in his gut. After all, this was a place that must have evoked rather unpleasant memories in the other man. He felt even worse when the sounds of water reached his ears.

With a more than weary sigh he slumped to the ground. He felt so drained and he didn't really know what he was doing. He followed Arthur because what else was there to do? Even if Kilgharrah hadn't set him on the path, it would have been his only option. Arthur was his only option, always had been.

"You're being a bit dramatic, don't you think," Morgana's snappy voice commented.  
Merlin didn't bother to look up. Of course, the ghost would choose the exact moment when he felt like wallowing in self-pity.  
"Leave me in peace, Morgana. I'm not in the mood." Demonstratively he laid down and turn his back towards her. She flipped a pebble at him. Merlin grumbled, but otherwise continued to ignore her.

"Oh, come on, Merlin. Sulking won't make things better."  
He couldn't hear her steps, but the fact the air immediately surrounding him had just turned colder was a rather clear indicator that she must have been standing directly behind him. Merlin lunged for her image, which destabilized for a moment before it flickered back to its annoyingly clear appearance. He took a deep breath, trying to push back the seething frustration he was feeling and got back up into a sitting position. Morgana was watching him expectantly.

"So what do you want?"

"What do I want? What do YOU want? Why have you left Arthur to fend for himself?" She was standing above him, her arms crossed and her eyes judging.

"It's not like I had much of a choice," Merlin answered irritably, still he couldn't help running a hand through his dishevelled hair. "He threatened to kill me, you know."

Morgana snorted. "As if that was the first death threat from Arthur you ever got. It's not like you've ever been a particularly obedient servant." She enunciated the last word, clearly trying to get a rise out of him, but Merlin only shook his head.

"This is different."

"Oh." She raised an eyebrow. "You mean it's different because he now knows you're a lying scoundrel?"

"YES!"

Silence descended after that. Merlin heard his own heart beat hammering in his chest and Morgana was still securitizing him with an unreadable expression. Her half-transparent form was outlined clearly against the cold cave walls and for a second Merlin wondered why her voice and appearance seemed so much more stable than the last few times he'd met her. He even considered asking her but then decided that there were more important questions.

"Why aren't you with Arthur then?"

She sighed and unfolded her arms. Apparently, he'd hit the bullseye.  
"That Sidhe impostor pulled up some kind of barrier after I thwarted his attempts to kidnap Sir Goldilocks. Since then it's been impossible to get anywhere near you or Arthur, until, well, yesterday evening."

Merlin grimaced. He really didn't like the thought of the annoying wraith being able to just pop in and see what was going on in his life. But then, there had to be some perks to being dead.  
"So you know what happened?"

"I'm not all that interested in the details of your lovers' spat, but it it's obvious it must've been your fault."  
  
Merlin opened his mouth, then closed it again and shot Morgana a dirty look. She returned it with an awfully smug grin. Merin huffed and averted his gaze.

"So, what are you planning to do about it?"  
"Going after Arthur, of course," he snapped, but still avoided looking at her directly.  
Morgana's air was all imperious grace now, as she bowed down slightly and levelled Merlin with a stern glare. "Then what are you doing moping here in a corner?"

"Night's falling, in case you haven't noticed." He gestured towards the cave's entrance but Morgana seemed more than unimpressed. She straightened again and mumbled and exasperated, "I can't believe you are Emrys." Louder she said, "A bit of darkness won't kill you."

"Says the one who's already dead," he bristled. "I can't get down from the freaking mountain without any proper light. Being Emrys doesn't give me night vision, you know. I'll break my neck or lose even more time. It's much wiser to wait until daylight and then proceed."

Morgana didn't say anything to that. She just regarded Merlin with a look one might give an especially disgusting beetle. Merlin stared back, but felt himself starting to squirm under the intensity of the gaze.

"What?!" he bit back

"You have turned into a coward. You know exactly that every moment you dawdle here Arthur is at the mercy of this- this thing! Just because he hurt your delicate sensibilities," she rolled her eyes and Merlin bristled, "doesn't mean you're relieved of your destiny. It's still your duty to protect the once and future king."

"And what would you know of destiny, witch?" Merlin drawled, yet still got up from his sitting position. She'd hit a nerve, as much as he disliked admitting it.

"I'm dead Merlin, I know everything."

Merlin snorted, but his gaze was still involuntarily drawn to the exit. Morgana raised an eyebrow.  
"You could just turn into something with better night vision. An owl, or a faithful lapdog, if that's more your department," she teased. Merlin shot her a _not funny_ look.

"For your information, I can't turn into an animal. Not matter if bird or canine."  
"Seriously, what can you do?" Morgana made sure to play up the exasperated air to its fullest. Merlin only rolled his eyes, but he'd also started to pace the small confined space of the cave.

"Then teleport out."

Merlin stopped. He seemed to consider the option.  
"I've never done it before," he admitted, a hint of sheepishness swinging along.  
"What are you waiting for then?" She gestured towards the exit and Merlin nodded to himself. Yes, he could try that. He'd never done it before, but it couldn't be that hard. After all, lesser sorcerers than him had succeeded at it.  
  
"Take a bit of a run-up, that should probably work. Imagine where you want to go, visualize the place before your inner eye."

Merlin took a deep breath and went back a few paces. He was bobbing on his feet, trying to imagine Sol – the town square with the fountain- then he started into a run. The magic inside his veins was surging and he could almost see it, was almost there….

Then he collided with the cave wall. He went down with a chocked sound while Morgana was giggling madly next to him.

"I probably should've warned you that it's safer for beginners to do this outside," she chortled.

"So considerate of you to tell me this beforehand," he rubbed his aching forehead and scrambled back to his feet. Without another look at the ghost he made for the exit and threw and off-hand "I'm walking" back over his shoulder.

* * *

 

His feet hurt – well, mostly it was the ankles, after having tripped and slipped on about fifteen different occasions since leaving that blasted cave. Also, his head hurt, but that was just a reminder of never taking advice from the evil spectre again.

Said evil spectre was gliding effortlessly through the night next to him, occasionally providing warnings about unsafe passages ahead, which, of course, he refused to take at this point, but mostly came to regret afterwards.

"Why are you even bothering," Merlin muttered under his breath while he tried to assess the safety of the path ahead with a bit of uncoordinated groping. The dim moonlight wasn't of much help here.

"I'm trying to make amends, I told you so. Besides, it gives me pleasure to see you struggle." Merlin hmpfd and decided he should have kept his mouth shut. "I mean it's not like you didn't have it coming, but Arthur deserves some peace for once."

"Quite the change of heart you had there," Merlin commented. "Not that I don't share the sentiment, but it's quite the different tune from _kill him, kill him now_ you propagated not too long ago."

Morgana sneered, or at least he thought she did. It was a bit hard to tell in the dark.  
"I was wrong. Death has opened my eyes to the fact that from all the people who indeed trespassed against me, Arthur wasn't one of them."

"How generous," Merlin deadpanned. They were silent for a while after that. Only when finally the dark silhouettes of some trees came in view did it occur to Merlin that maybe the conversation hadn't been entirely done. He threw a sidelong glance into Morgana's direction.

"What even made you so angry with Arthur to begin with? It's not like he ever gave you reason to suspect he'd despise you for having magic. I mean I understand you were afraid of Uther, but Arthur?"

Morgana snorted. "Says the one who kept it a secret from him for a whole decade."  
  
"Morgana!" He was levelling her with a reproachful stare, which, surprisingly enough, made the ghost lift her hands in surrender.  
"I – It was Morgause's doing." She had stopped in her stepless movement and became eerily immobile. "Even after what you had done to me, I apparently didn't show the right amount of determination for her tastes, so she helped it along."

Merlin stood next to her, frowning. He was still processing what he'd just heard. The mention of him poisoning Morgana was always something that succeeded at throwing him off his game, but with Morgana wringing her own hands, it was clear that this wasn't the issue. "What are you telling me here, Morgana?" The ghost flickered a little and the expression on her face was pained. She averted her gaze and Merlin widened his eyes in shock.

"Did she – Are you saying she put you under a spell? Were you coerced?"

She shook her head. "It wasn't like this. She used resentment I already felt. It was- She left me in the tower, Merlin."

He already had an impatient _which tower_ on the tip of his tongue, when it dawned on him.

"The dark tower," he whispered in horror. He whirled around and stared at the cowering form of his former nemesis. "She made you comply by performing the _Teine Diaga_ on you. I didn't – I didn't realise." Instinctively he tried to grab for her hand, but of course it went right through her. [1]

"I'm so sorry, Morgana. I- I didn't know."

She shrugged and gave a mirthless laugh. "Well, how could you. It's not like none of it was me. I did hate Uther, and you. I even hated Gwen a little. But Arthur, well, it's hard to hate him, even when he's being a dim-witted fool."

Merlin found himself nodding. He still felt he should somehow say something to this revelation, but there probably wasn't anything that could live up to the enormity of what had just happened. So he swallowed and gestured wordlessly towards the path ahead of them.

By the time daylight came, they'd almost reached Sol. However, with the growing proximity to Arthur and consequently the Sidhe, it became harder for Morgana to keep up her appearance. She flickered in and out of existence, her voice becoming a barely distinguishable wave of white noise. She ultimately decided to leave Merlin to his task, but not before patronising him with all her well-meant (aka snide) advice on how to deal with the threat. When she was finally gone, Merlin felt bone-weary and he could only sink down on some old and half-rotten tree trunk that lay hidden in the shade of the forest edge.

He observed the bustling morning activities of the farmers leaving their houses and even saw some very late patrons stumbling out of the tavern. To find Percival and Leon, who were both leaning heavily on a much smaller woman, amongst these patrons came as bit of a surprise though. Merlin frowned in the direction of the small figures and squinted his eyes. They were too far away to make out properly what was going on. So he cast his glace ahead and spied with magical precision on his two friends.

He almost fell off his trunk though when he realised that the woman with them was the formerly missing serving wench from the first town. He didn't remember her name, but he was absolutely sure it was her. Where did they find her? Or was there something else going on? Merlin wanted to go over and inquire about what had happened in the few days of his absence, but Arthur's warning still rang in his ears. Besides, if he wanted to catch the Sidhe impostor staying inconspicuous seemed the more advisable way to go about things. So he waited and observed.

Percival and Leon were not as drunk as he first had feared. Sure, they must've had and ale or two, but both were still in full possession of their senses. The fact that they had the wench between them hailed more from them singing rather loudly - and off-key, he might add. Merlin felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Arthur would be so furious. Especially at Leon, after all the first knight was supposed to be the serious one.

Someone threw a bucket of dirty water out of the window and into their direction. It missed the group but broke them up. They were still laughing though when they continued their way around the corner and out of Merlin's line of vision.

Merlin let them go. It was good to know they were fine, but it was Arthur who was at the focus of his most immediate worry. So his gaze returned to the inn, sailed through the door and up the stairs, where it searched the guest rooms and found them all empty.

Now, that was really a bit disconcerting. Merlin blinked a few times, calling his wandering gaze back to himself. Where could Arthur be? Did the impostor already have him? He felt his heart hammering in his chest. This wasn't good.

He was already about the jump up and run over to Leon and Percival when he noticed two voices not far from him. He hesitated and instead listened to what he could make out. One of them was most certainly Arthur's voice - that really took a load off his mind. The other one, however, sounded familiar too. Merlin frowned.

"How did you get here? This is really most curious." That had been Arthur.  
"I don't recall, Sire. It's all a bit blurry, I only remember," the other voice paused and cleared his throat, "meeting with a girl." Arthur huffed, but the sound of movement indicated that they were still continuing their way through the undergrowth.  
  
"It's always a mysterious girl, isn't it."  
"Well, she wasn't so mysterious. Her name's Moira and she's from the Lower Town, I've kn-", "Moira, you say?" Arthur interrupted.  
Merlin could also hear that they had abruptly stopped in their journey. Though he agreed with Arthur here, the mention of Moira was certainly something that made people pause. He leant in and tried to hear better what was going on. He was also still wondering who the other person was. The voice was..

"Owen, I know who Moira is. She was murdered a few days after your disappearance." They started walking again while Merlin was literally rooted to the spot. Owen? Owen, the stable boy? The first person, who had been taken from Camelot?  
Merlin felt an inner compulsion to follow them as the voices grew fainter and fainter, but he knew it was ill-advised. So he cast his gaze again and saw Arthur and the blond boy, who he now clearly recognized as the missing stable boy, leave the forest and head towards the town. Their conversation continued as they walked on, but even with Merlin's magic he couldn't hear them, only see them. It was quite frustrating.

He followed them until they entered the inn. Anything more seemed pointless. He retracted his gaze again and instead stared at nothing in particular. This was all getting weirder and weirder. How had they found these missing people? And when? He shook his head at himself.

With the serving wench and Owen as part of their group it seemed obvious that Arthur would aim for Camelot next. After all, it'd been their quest's point to save the kidnapped people. Of course, these two were only the beginning, but it was better than nothing, so getting them home seemed only reasonable. Merlin sighed and got up. He needed a better vantage point to see the stables where the horses were kept.

* * *

 

The company left Sol at around noon. Merlin followed them at a discreet distance. Even without a horse it wasn't too hard to keep up with them. The inexperience of Brianna as a rider and the fact that Leon had another person atop his own horse slowed the group down considerably. Admittedly, Merlin had felt a spark of indignation when he'd seen Arthur help the young serving wench to climb on the horse that for years had been Merlin's. He tried to rationalise it away by telling himself that the horse had always belonged to the royal stables and never to him personally, but it still stung.

He also tried to figure out how exactly they had come about the two missing people. The narrative remained somewhat choppy and he could only puzzle out that they must have found Brianna first, and that neither of the two really remembered what had happened during the time of their absence. It was a rather frustrating endeavour and Merlin was almost glad when he spotted the company making camp at the border of some woods.

They were now somewhere between Sol and the Lake of Avalon. Merlin assumed they would've been able to make it to the lake before nightfall it they'd wanted to. But then, wanting to was the issue here. He was even a bit surprised Arthur hadn't chosen a path that steered clear of the area entirely.

Merlin observed them some more. It seemed like they weren't planning on going much further today if the fire and the tents were any indicators. Owen was taking care of the horses, Leon and Percival were hunting some rabbits, and Brianna was chopping some vegetables into a pot.

Only Arthur… Arthur was roaming restlessly.

He left the group when the sun was starting to sink below the horizon. Merlin felt a stab of fear when he saw Arthur moving further and further away from the camp. It was especially worrying that nobody seemed to notice the absence of the king, all of them just merrily pursuing their tasks.

His instincts told him to follow Arthur, even though the voice at the back of his head was muttering that it was slightly ironic that he was now the one stalking the king. He grimaced, yet still continued creeping through the undergrowth. Arthur threw a glance back over his shoulder every once in a while. He never spotted Merlin though.

He followed him until he reached a small waterfall that cascaded over same jagged rocks. Merlin looked around frantically. He was slightly out of breath and now truly concerned over the fact that Arthur was nowhere in sight. He couldn't have vanished that quickly.   
Merlin pressed his hand to his aching side. He needed to concentrate. But even casting his gaze ahead rendered no results and he eventually sagged to the ground, defeated.

Only when his eyes fell on the silver bracelet on his own bony wrist, he hit on another idea. He took a deep breath, then he removed the bracelet. He let his head fall back and rest against the cool rock behind him. With no doubts left, he closed his eyes.

Merlin's mind was immediately propelled over the tree tops and then dived back into the forest, only to find itself in the eerie half-light of some cave. If he could, he would've rolled his eyes. By now, he really hated caves.  
This one was slightly different though. More than an actual cave it was a cleft with filtered sunlight falling in from the top. There was also the sound of water, Merlin noted. He wanted to turn into its direction, but his body didn't really obey his wishes. Instead his gaze stayed glued to Arthur, who was standing right in front of him and looked positively murderous.

"I found the stable boy."

Merlin felt his own face contort into – he wasn't entirely sure – a grin? It was really hard to tell from this bizarre observer perspective. But it felt even weirder when his mouth started to answer without his own cooperation. "I hoped you would. He was supposed to be a gift, after all."

"You could have told me he was out there, lying unconscious in the cold," Arthur snapped.  
"I got the impression you needed a bit of space." This time the tone was clearly teasing. Arthur stared back at him furiously. Merlin would under normal circumstances have felt at least slightly distressed by that stare, but his host was still completely at ease with the situation. He even went as far as brushing a few stray droplets of water from Arthur's forehead, who in return seemed highly discomfited by the touch.

"What about the others?" he pressed out.  
"What others? I'm afraid you have to be more precise."  
  
Arthur looked strained. He pressed his lips to a thin line, then closed his eyes to take a deep breath. "The other people you took."

Merlin's host chuckled. "They aren't far from here." He rounded Arthur and lightly touched his hand to the king's shoulder before pointing into a direction somewhere to their left. "They're safe there. Nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about?!" Arthur's voice was rising in volume, "You kidnapped these people! And what do you even do with them? They never seem to remember anything. Keeping them as hostages won't-"

The host raised his hand in an appeasing gesture. For a second Merlin was seriously distracted by this hand's appearance. It looked very much like his own hand, and at the same time it really didn't. The fingernails were by far too long and pointy and the pallor was all grey and unnatural. It was somewhat disturbing.

"They aren't hostages." The hand's owner sounded much stricter now. "You misunderstand if you assume I plan on keeping them."

"Then what exactly do you plan on doing with them?" The exasperation in Arthur's voice was palpable. He was clearly running out of patience. The host regarded him as if the answer to that question was supposed to be obvious, but Arthur could only shake his head in frustration.

"I plan on giving them back in due time. After all, they have fulfilled their purpose." There was a pause but before Arthur could inquire, he continued, "They are your sacrifices. One day from each of them to give to their king."

Arthur's confused glare made it clear that he wasn't following, but for Merlin this revelation felt like being clubbed over the head. Of course, it made sense! You could not create life from nothing, you always needed someone to give it in return. So the Sidhe stole one day off the lives of each person hey had taken. That's why every day another person was gone. He should have seen that sooner. But that also meant….

Merlin felt dread settle in his stomach.

That also meant that Arthur's life was far from safe. Without the daily sacrifices he would die.

"I gave them back to show my benevolence," the Sidhe continued. His voice had taken on a smooth yet anticipatory timbre. He had also placed his slender hand on Arthur once more. Something in Merlin wanted to scream.

"However, you must realise that it can't go on like this. Living of other people's life force, it's unbecoming of a king."  
  
Arthur swallowed but refrained from answering. Instead his eyes followed the slithering movement of the hand that travelled from his shoulder to his chest. He was clearly feeling uneasy.

"And what solution to that problem do you propose?"

"Oh, a rather simple one: Come with me."

Arthur looked taken aback. "Where to?"  
The Sidhe leant in and Merlin could feel that his lips had contorted into conspiratorial smile. "To Avalon, of course."

Instinctively Arthur wanted to reel back, but the Sidhe grabbed him by the front of his tunic and pulled him over harshly. Their lips collided, and somewhere something exploded over the outburst of Merlin's fury. The cool lips moved against Arthur's, and all Merlin could think was that he had to stop this, cut the connection and find them, but his spirit stayed trapped where it was and thus could only observe and shiver.

It took Arthur a moment to push the other one off him, who went easily enough.  
"What do you think you're doing?!" he exclaimed wide-eyed. "I'm the King of Camelot and a married man!"  
The Sidhe chuckled slightly and traced his own lips with an indulgent gesture. He seemed very pleased. "As far as I remember the vows you mortals make go something like _till death do us part_. Well, death parted you. You died, therefore you are no longer bound by vow." He took a step closer to Arthur, who automatically took one back.

"I'm not interested," Arthur pressed out, looking flushed while doing so.  
"You're lying," the Sidhe said, "but it doesn't matter. We both know that sooner or later you will come to Avalon. It has always been your final destination. You cannot escape that."

Arthur opened his mouth to retort something, but then closed it again. He looked lost.  
"You're not even Merlin," he whispered.  
The Sidhe shook his head. "I'm almost Merlin."

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I always found it an interesting theory that Morgana's turn to the dark side might not entirely have been her own choice. Of course, in many aspects she was already set on the path, but I always thought that her hatred for Arthur was somehow ill-founded, in comparison to some of the other people she wanted out of the way.
> 
>  
> 
> Leave a comment ♥


End file.
